


Deerstalker

by Chris_Cat



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Case Fic, Case solving, Deerstalker, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, HIgh School Sherlolly, High School, High School AU, Kid Sherlock, Molly Hooper - Freeform, Mystery, Romance, School Dance, Sherlolly - Freeform, Sherlolly fic, Teenage Sherlock, Teenage Sherlolly, Teenlock, mollock, teen!lock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-27
Updated: 2014-04-09
Packaged: 2018-01-09 16:28:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 32,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1148195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chris_Cat/pseuds/Chris_Cat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unlike many teenagers, 16 year old Molly Hooper is excited when her family decides to move to the countryside. Reading in the garden, taking walks through the woods and playing with her cat - Molly is enjoying her quiet life. Until she meets the young genius Sherlock Holmes. With his arrogant manner, sharp tongue and brilliant mind, Sherlock manages to get her caught up in a mystery that even this teenage genius might not be able to solve. When it turns out her hometown is not  as peaceful as it looks and Sherlock is not around to save the day, Molly Hooper will have to become her own hero.</p><p>Sherlolly High school AU. Lots of romance and fluff, but also some mystery and case solving.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> A long time reader. First time writer. It's my first fic and English is not my first language, so please bear with me.  
> Also, this is probably going to turn out way longer than I planned it to. Enjoy!

It was a cold January night and Sherlock Holmes lay wide awake on top of his dark blue sheets. He had been lying like this – staring straight up at the ceiling, his hands forming a pyramid underneath his chin – since midnight. Ever since Mycroft left, his nights seemed to drag on endlessly.  
The soft ticking of the clock on his bedside table being the only reminder that this darkness would end and the rising sun would bring a new day. _Like those are more exciting_ , he thought and let out a sigh. He sat up and looked at his clock. With help from the moonlight shining through his curtains he could just make out the dials telling him it was one o’clock. This meant the dogs would start to bark any second.

His neighbor, Mr. Lowell, kept two Great Danes. Unlike their names, Tootsie and Blossom were anything but sweet. In the last two weeks alone the two pets had managed to bite and attack five people in the neighborhood. Every night at one o’clock a bus, bringing businessmen and drunkards back to their homes in the small town, would drive past Lowell’s house. Each night the bus would wake Tootsie and Blossom and the Great Danes would start to bark frantically at what they assumed was an invisible enemy.

Lying back down, Sherlock could hear the bus turn around the corner, the engine purring softly. He counted down in his head to moment the growling would begin.  
 _3…2…1…._ Nothing. No barking. Had he miscounted? He never miscounted. Sherlock waited until an entire minute had gone by in complete silence. The quiet was starting to unsettle him. Animals are used to patterns and those patterns are not suddenly broken, he thought. This afternoon he had still seen the dogs fight over a toy in Lowell’s garden and he had heard the bus come by just a minute ago. So he could not offer an explanation for the dogs suddenly remaining quiet. Not _yet_.  
  
Sherlock quietly put on his shoes and tiptoed to the window. He slowly slid it open and jumped onto the little balcony outside his room. He thanked himself for not deciding to move into Mycroft’s empty room, for his mother always placed the bins very conveniently underneath this particular balcony. Sherlock swung his legs over the railing gracefully and let go. ‘Thump!’ His shoes went as he landed on top of the garbage cans. Thank god his parents were deep sleepers.  
  
He moved across the garden as if he was part of dark itself. the He reached his neighbors fence and leapt over it skillfully. As he made his way around Mr. Lowell’s house, the cool night’s air filled his lung. A small smile escaped his lips. He could feel his blood pumping through his veins, while his breath formed little white clouds in the cold dark. This was what a night was supposed to be like for Sherlock Holmes.

As soon as he entered the back garden, he saw the silhouette of the Great Danes lying curled up together near the broken-down doghouse. The two aggressive beasts resting side by side so peacefully created a bizarre picture. Sherlock approached swiftly, reasons for the pets’ sudden deep sleep running through his brain. It was only when he reached the doghouse that he saw something was off. The dogs were lying too still, their chests were not moving. Sherlock felt himself awakening, adrenaline filling his veins and his mind starting to race, as he realized he was staring at the corpses of his neighbors’ beloved pets. He was certain now, he could feel it in the ice-cold darkness that surrounded him.  
 _Something_ was starting.


	2. A Disappearing Act

“Molly, stop it!” Diana Hooper told her daughter. Molly had not even realized she had been tapping her foot loudly on the kitchen floor for the last 15 minutes.  
“Honey, I know you’re nervous…” her mom began.  
“I am not nervous!” Molly blurted, while she dropped her spoon in the half-eaten bowl of cereal in front of her. Her mother frowned.  
“I… I mean, it’s just school. It’s not like it can be much different from London,” she said, her voice a lot softer now. 

At a quarter to eight Molly was riding her new bike to school. She could smell the rich scent of fallen leaves mixed with recent rain, while the wind softly pulled strands from her reddish brown braid.  This was one of the those things she loved about living here. She did not have to walk through streets packed with people, or ride an overfull bus to get anywhere. From the moment they had moved in, she had fallen in love with this little town. She had spent most of her autumn break reading books on the front porch, exploring the village on bike and playing with her cat Toby. It was as if since she left London, she suddenly had time and space for all the little things that made her happy. As she neared the school building she crossed her fingers that enjoying education there would not completely ruin her positive outlook on her recent move.  
  
Molly parked her bike in front of the brick school building and took of her helmet (Yes, she knew she looked ridiculous in it, but like her mom always said; _Chance takers are accident makers._ ) Like any place in town, the school’s yard was very quiet. She only saw two girls around her age walking to the front door, while chatting excitedly. She decided to follow them and as soon as she stepped inside, she lost all her worries about not finding her way. The administration office, where she had to pick up her schedule, was the first thing she saw as she stepped into the school’s main hall. On both sides of the hall were two corridors with classrooms. In front of her, next to the office where she had to be, stood a small staircase that led up to the second floor.

Molly was about to knock on the door of the office, when a rather stout woman swung it open.  
“Molly Hooper! Please come in,” she said excitedly. Her eyes glistening brightly behind bright-pink glasses that matched with her pink cardigan.  
Molly was lead into a small office with two desks. The pink lady pulled out a chair for Molly and sat down behind one of the desks herself.  
“My name is Janice and I’m head of the administration at this school. We’re very pleased to have you here. Now let me see….” She bent down to rummage through one of her desk drawers.  
“Aahh! Here it is,” she pulled out a schedule and handed it to Molly. “Now if anything on there is not right, you just tell me and we’ll change it.”  
Molly, still somewhat surprised to be approached by school staff in such a way, stared blankly at the piece of paper she received.  
“Your first class is mathematics in room 108, if you’d like I…” Someone knocked and Janice stood up to open the door. A girl of the same age as Molly with olive skin and tight black curls stepped into the office.  
“Oh! What a coincidence!” Janice exclaimed. “Molly, this is Sally. She also has mathematics first period. She can show you the way.”  
“You must be the new girl. Molly, is it?” Sally asked, acting very nonchalant compared to Janice.  
“Yup. That’s me, Molly. Nice to meet you,” Molly said, trying to put a friendly smile on her face. She suddenly regretted deciding to wear her pink floral sweater. Compared to Sally, who looked like confidence itself in her black leather jacket, she felt like a preschooler playing princess who had somehow gotten lost at the big kids’ school.  
“Nice to meet you too, Molly.” Sally said in the same cool voice. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

Before Molly knew it, Sally had taken her under her wing. She showed Molly where they had classes, what you could and could not do with certain teachers, but most of all she informed Molly on all the gossip about her classmates. By lunchtime, Molly could probably tell every dirty detail – secretly filling up bras in 8th grade and  cheating on girlfriends included - about the lives of every student she had met that morning. Fortunately, Sally turned out to be not only a good source of gossip, but also of friends. Thanks to the extremely self-assured girl, Molly was suddenly eating lunch at the busiest table in the cafeteria.

“So, why did your parents decide to move here?” Meena, a girl with dark-brown curls and braces asked Molly. When they had arrived at this table, she had immediately decided to sit next to her. Compared to Sally’s other friends, Meena was a bit more tranquil (and less intimidating).  
“Well, my dad wanted….”  
“I’LL SMASH THAT MASSIVE BRAIN OF YOURS !” Molly was interrupted by shouting from behind her. She was certainly not the only one surprised by the loud threat, as the whole  cafeteria went quiet.  
“COME ON THEN, SKINNY BOY!” As she turned around, Molly saw that the yells came from an exceptionally large boy. His two similar sized friends stood beside him, as he challenged a very pale and thin student to a fight.  
“Oh, I really would not advise you to start threatening me,” The slender boy, whose black curls formed a stark contrast with his pale skin, started to say in a  patronizing voice. He seemed surprisingly unimpressed by his massive opponent.   
“You see, it might make me give away a _little_ secret about you. Like the fact that you slept with Claire, who just happens to be Jake’s girlfriend. Oops! There it went!” As soon he spoke the words, madness descended on the cafeteria.  A girl sitting at a table in the back, suddenly burst into hysteric sobs.  
“What the hell?!” one of the large boy’s friends yelled at the boy he stood behind just seconds ago. He looked like a time bomb made of rage and left hooks and he was about to explode. “I WILL KILL YOU!”  
The boy, apparently called Jake, swung his massive fist right at his friends face. The other boy ducked and hit his opponent in the stomach. A load groan escaped Jake, but he stood tall and tackled his friend. When both boys were on the floor trying to crack eachother’s  skulls,  the headmaster came rushing in.  
He grabbed the back of Jake’s shirt, forcing him to stand up, and yelled: “MY OFFICE. NOW. BOTH OF YOU.”  
In spite of all the commotion, Molly’s eyes found the pale boy. She noticed him quietly slipping away towards the back door. Just before he exited the cafeteria, he looked back once more. Expecting no one to see him, his eyes immediately darted to the one person that did.  His gazed pierced through her and a small smile formed on his lips. He winked at here and left so fast after that Molly was not even certain it had happened.

“What did just happen?” Molly blurted, she could still feel her heart pounding in her chest.  
“Oh, that happens quite a lot around here. Thanks to that _freak_ ,” Sally let out an annoyed sigh.  
She did not seem very shaken over the strange and aggressive incident, nor did anyone else at the  table. Molly even heard Meena start to chat with the boy on the other side of her about some new song she just heard.  
“What do you mean?” Molly asked Sally. Molly started to wonder if this whole day was just a creation of her paranoid mind, expressing her anxiety about going to a new school in some doom-scenario filled dream. Maybe if she pinched herself really hard, she would just wake up lying under her pink bed sheets.  
“Well, you just met our school’s favorite freak. Mr. Sherlock Holmes,” Sally started to answer, her voice filled with overly dramatic contempt. “There’s something seriously wrong with that kid. It is as if he enjoys being beat up, because he keeps asking for it.”  
“You… you mean the boy with the black hair?” Molly tested carefully, trying not to show her desperate interest.  
“Yes, that’s him. He is always causing trouble, it’s getting tiring.”  
“Why? He did not seem to have do anything wrong just now. Well, except for…” Molly wanted to hear more about this mysterious stranger, but at the same time felt the inexplicable need to defend him.  
“Exactly!” Sally interrupted her. The subject of Sherlock Holmes (fortunately) seemed to really get her going. “He is constantly blabbing, telling all these things about everyone. He has probably ruined at least one relationship of everyone in this school. And he enjoys it! He loves seeing people hurt! He gets off on it!”  
“Also, he is _really_ strange, ” a red-haired girl Molly had forgotten the name of added. “I mean, how can he know all those things? He’s probably some sort of creepy stalker.”  
“A psychopath, that’s what he is.” Sally concluded, just as the bell rang.   
The rest of the day Molly tried really hard to put everything that happened during lunch out of her mind. Still she could not concentrate on anything her new teachers told her, because she felt like those cunning blue eyes were still watching her. 


	3. Perfect Chemistry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly and Sherlock are teamed up together in Chemistry. A whole lot of akwardness ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Thanks for the sweet comments on the last chapter. Here's a new one, it's a bit less exciting but with a lot more Sherlock - Molly action. Hope you enjoy!

_Tap, tap, tap…._ Molly’s foot went against the linoleum floor of the classroom. Usually she would have someone to talk to before class began, but Advanced Chemistry was the one class where nobody she knew was in. That probably wasn’t a coincidence.    
Molly let her mind wander to the past few days. They had gone by surprisingly quietly, compared to her first one. She had not seen Sherlock around since the incident.   
  
“Good morning class,” A middle-aged teacher greeted the class as he walked into the room, a black leather bag in his hand that seemed to be overflowing with papers.   
“I hope you all prepared the assignments that…” The old man began, but stopped as he spotted Molly. “Ah! Look at that. We have got ourselves a new student.”   
He peered at her from behind his ridiculously thick glasses, as if they still did not manage to let him see her clearly.   
“Molly Hooper, is it?” He had gotten the slip that told him about her transfer from regular chemistry out of that black bag of his. Molly wondered if he unintentionally looked like a caricature of a science professor or if he secretly tried really hard to keep up this image.   
“Yes, I’m Molly.” She answered softly, feeling her cheeks get hot.   
“Nice to meet you Molly, I’m Mr. Abott. You have chosen a good day to start this class, because we are doing a lab today.”  
  
Mister Abott started to go over some safety rules and explained the experiments they had to perform. They consisted of simple precipitation reactions between salts, Molly had already done a similar experiment at her previous school.  
“Besides performing these experiments in class today, you will also be expected to write a report about your findings. I expect you to work in pairs,” Mr. Abott told the class. Molly felt her stomach drop. Oh god, no. The moment she had sat down at her seat in the front, she had noticed she was the only one not sitting beside someone. _Isn’t it great being the new girl?_ She thought.  
“I see we are with an uneven number today,” So the teacher had also noticed. “So I suggest…” For a second time that hour Mr. Abott stopped mid-sentence. Someone was standing in the door way.  
As soon as Molly spotted his dark curls and pale skin, she felt her stomach start to twist and turn. She cursed herself for having such a reaction to his presence, she was supposed to have forgotten all about him.   
“Sherlock, you decided to come for once. I was going to let you get a late slip, but it seems like you might actually be useful here. You can be our new student’s partner for the next project,” Mr. Abott told the boy, sounding more tired than angry as he pointed him to the seat next to Molly.  
 _Oh god. Please. No._ Molly’s stomach had started doing summersaults. She could hear a giggle coming from the back of the class when Sherlock sat down beside her.   
“Okay class, you can start performing your experiments. Remember to write down all your results, because you will need them for the report.”  
  
“Ummm….so… you missed the instructions, so maybe I could explain them to you first,” Molly said to her partner who had not even bothered to look at her. Never in her life had sitting beside someone been so awkward.   
“No need. It’s a simple precipitation reaction. Ionic bonds break, new ones are formed. In test-tube one and five the salts will dissolve, in the other tubes they will not,” he spoke quickly, but certain. His eyes were still trained on something far off in the distance, no one but him could see.   
“Oh, you seem to understand it quite well. We can go ahead and perform the experiment then. I can start mixing the salts and you could add the fluids…if you’d like,” she tried to ignore his obvious disinterest. He probably meant well. Maybe there was just something more important on his mind.   
When she got no reaction she added; “Or I could add the fluids as well. If you want that. I’ve done this experiment before, you know.”  
This seemed to have gotten his attention and he finally turned to her. As Molly looked at his eyes - she was certain they were green now -  and the black curls that partly obscured them, she realized that her fascination with Sherlock did not solely rely on what happened that first day. He was not necessarily beautiful, but his entire appearance was outright fascinating _._  
“Yes, you should do that. I’m sure you’re very good at it,” He gave her a smile, but while his white teeth made her heart do a little leap, she strangely felt as if his eyes were mocking her.   
“Okay, great,” she smiled back while she shook off the strange feeling.

Molly went ahead and performed the experiment herself. Every so often Sherlock would correct her when she was about to make a mistake, or at least when he thought  she was. While  he told her things like “the other one” or  “the liquid first” he continued to stare of into space. While the hour crept on, being so close to him – although she could even smell the scent of smoke and pesticides (?!) coming from him – made Molly feel less and less uncomfortable.   
  
“Very well class, you got five minutes left, so I expect you to start cleaning up.” Molly sighed. She was pretty sure she could throw her eraser against her partners head and he would not even notice. Maybe she should try, just to for a chance to have those enchanting eyes look at her ones again.   
Molly cleaned up the test-tubes and wiped of the table. When she had cleaned up everything the bell rang.   
“Umm… Sherlock, about the project….” She began hesitantly, but he was already on his feet.  
“Got to go!” He did not even look back at her when he existed the room and left her standing without a partner. Molly felt her knees get week. She was supposed to be angry at him, but she just felt sad that he had not even bothered with her. Had she done something wrong?

“So you and Sherlock are teammates in Chem, huh?” Sally asked Molly the next day during lunch. Apparently,  her classmates did not only giggle, they talked as well.   
“Yeah. We are,” Molly answered, hoping Sally would not ask further. When she had gone home last afternoon, she was certain she loathed Sherlock more than anyone. Yet, when she lay in bed that night she thought about the way he had smiled at her and she could not help but feel her entire body tingle with excitement. Right now, she  just felt incredibly confused.   
“So, what is that like?” her new friend went on. “Does he do all the work, because he thinks he is _way_ smarter? Does he even talk to you? It’s probably best if he doesn’t, otherwise he would just creep you out.”  
“It’s… it’s alright,” she answered, shrugging her shoulders while she hoped Sally did not notice her uncomfortable expression. She was such a bad liar.  
“Oh come on, Molly. You can tell me. I know what he’s like, he probably pissed you off, didn’t he?” Sally said, leaning closing to her while wearing a suspicious expression.  The shame and embarrassment from yesterday returned to Molly. Maybe if she let it all out, she would stop feeling so confused.   
“You’re right, he did,” she began, while plucking at her bright green cardigan. “He spoke like two sentences to me. It was really awkward.”  
“You should probably be happy about that, because…”  
Molly started to feel like she was going to burst. “No, but he also did not do any work. Nothing. So, I had to do everything by myself and he did not even thank me or anything. He’s just so…so…”  
“Strange? Insane?” Suddenly Molly heard a deep voice right behind her. She turned around and stared straight at a deep blue button-up shirt. Then there were the dark jeans. Black converse. _No. No. No. NO._  
“Although that is a lot more likely to come out of Sally’s mouth,” Sherlock continued. Molly wondered how long he had been standing there. Had he heard everything? “You Molly, if you were actually being honest, would probably describe me in a lot more positive fashion. But really, you don’t even have to. The fact that you’re attracted to me and you have just a _tiny_ crush, is kind of really obvious.”  
Molly felt her entire face turn bright red and her entire body tense. _Was this really happening? How could he know that?_ She wished her embarrassment would just kill her.  
Before Molly could even attempt to reply, Sally said; “Oh Sherlock, you wish. Nobody likes you and nobody will, so piss off.”   
“You might think so, but….” He began to form another humiliating reply.   
Molly knew she had to do something. Anything. To stop this madness.

  
“Sherlock…” she began as she stood up. Suddenly she found herself staring right in his face, his nose only an inch away. She could feel the warmth radiating of his body and recognized his scent of smoked that was mixed with chocolate this time.   
“Follow me to my locker…. We… we need to decide when to meet up for Chem,” she told him while she stepped away. Oh god. _Why am I so stupid?_ She thought. She could have just walked off, now she had to face him once more.

In a surprising turn of events he followed her out of the cafeteria and down the hall. When they finally reached her locker, he brought his hand up to her number lock, turned a few times and opened it.   
“You know my…. Never mind,” she said. She knew she should not start another discussion with him, tough she did make a mental note to herself to change her code.  
She dug out her planner from the stack of books. She felt his eyes observing her (surprisingly undistracted by the high amount of cats and pink glitter on the inside of her locker) and her hands started to shake. _Could she do nothing right when he was around?!_  
“Okay, let me see. We have to finish the project in two weeks. We got all the data, but we still need to write the report. I suggest we meet at the library…. Thursday?” What was she getting herself into? She had just wanted to lead him away from Sally’s table, it had never been her intention to actually arrange to work on their report.  
“Alright. Thursday, “ he told her with an actually sincere look on his face.   
“Bye, Molly.” He turned around and walked away.   
Out of his black backpack, that was opened partly, Molly could see a box of Advil peeping out. What was it with him and the random groceries?  
She sighed, Sherlock Holmes was one great mystery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! I always love it when someone leaves a comment, so don't hesitate! I'm already working on the next chapter :) XXX <3


	4. A Race against the Clock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and Molly are supposed to meet eachother to study in the library. Unfortunately, mystery arrives a little too soon....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! The new chapter is here :)  
> Thank you so much for the sweet comments on the last chapters, it's great to know you guys like it. It's the best motivator to keep going.  
> Mystery returns and Molly finally decides how she feels about Sherlock. Also, Jane Austen had to be mentioned, because I'm a huge nerd like that. ;)
> 
> Enjoy!

Pesticides, but not the ones his neighbors used. That’s what had eventually made the dogs go quiet. Now the question that remained was who had very strategically dropped them in the dog house. Sherlock groaned, he had been up all night thinking it through. No answer had come and during class he could not stop wondering if he would have figured it out already, if Mycroft had still been around.

Sherlock put on his coat, hoping his business with O’Malley would go quickly, so he could get his order before he got to the library to meet Molly. Maybe tonight would serve as a welcome distraction.  
“Sherlock?” his mother called just as he was about to walk out.  _Oh, crap._ “Where do you think you’re going?”  
“Out,” he mumbled, trying to walk out without success. His mother was holding the door.  
She sighed, weariness and disappointment clear in her blue eyes. “It’s cold,” she just said. “Here, put this on.” She grabbed the ratty deerstalker that hung on the coatrack and put it snugly on his head.  
“Just remember that you did not learn your tricks from a stranger, young man.” She gave him one last warning before he slammed the door.

The O’Malleys lived only three blocks away. From the outside their house was perfectly unnoticeable. A half-kept garden,  a few plants on the windowsill and a sign  that read O’Malley beside the door. Yet, most high school students and every alcoholic in town knew better. If you needed anything to cheer you up that the supermarket did not want to sell you, the O’Malleys had it. Grandfather and grandson. It was a real family business. Sherlock knocked loudly on the door three times, he did not want to wait today. He looked at his watch and watched the dial go round until an entire minute had gone by, but he got no reaction. He sighed and decided try the back door. Maybe the family had decided to lay low for a little while.  
  
He swung himself over the fence and trampled the weeds in the back garden. Once he reached the back door he stomped it loudly.  
When it stayed silent, he yelled: “Ed! I know you’re in there! It’s Sherlock! If you don’t come out, I’ll come in!”  This was strange, the boys usually welcomed costumers like acquaintances or family, so they would not be noticed.  
He could hear footsteps inside the house, someone was trying to hide. With his last bit of self-control Sherlock retained himself to not kick in the door, but use a hairpin he fished from his coat pocket.  
  
Once he stepped through the backdoor into the kitchen, he addressed the younger O’Malley loudly; “Ed! I need my fix! You still owe me one!”  
No one answered, but he could sense someone was around. From the kitchen he could see that the lights in the hall were still on.  Without a sound he moved across the wooden hallway floor, further into the house. He reached the living room door and was about to grab the knob, when someone on the other side suddenly pulled it open.  
Ed O’Malley’s head peeked out from behind the door. His mouth and eyes formed three perfect O’s and his knuckles turned white as he held the door.  
“You can’t come in here! What the hell were you thinking, breaking in like that?” He tried to sound threatening, but Sherlock could hear the hidden nervousness in his voice.  
“I came to get my regular. You still owe me quite some cigarettes and marihuana, remember?” Sherlock spoke calmly, but his body was ready to kick in the door any second. He was used to some strange behavior from the O’Malleys (What  else could you expect from a small town booze/cigarettes/drugs/porn-dealer?), but today something was clearly wrong. Ed knew Sherlock was a client that made sure of his steady income.  
“I don’t owe you nothing, kid. Now get out! I swear, if you take one step further, I will kill you!” Ed barked. Sherlock could not help but grin, the skinny 29-year old in front of him was as impressive as an aggressive Chihuahua.   
  
Sherlock decided it was time to see what his favorite dealer was hiding in the living room and get his usual packages of cigarettes and marihuana. Also, it was ten to five already.  
He put his foot between the door and leaned his shoulders into it. The door opened and Ed stumbled backwards. Ed sprang to Sherlock and grabbed his shoulders in an attempt to push him to the ground. Before he could actually try, Sherlock turned him around in one swift movement and pressed him against the wall.  
Twisting Ed’s arm behind his back, Sherlock spoke right into his ear; “You are going to tell me what is going on and you are going to give me my regular order. If you do not I will proceed to slowly break your arm and after that I will call the police to clean up this drug hole. So, what is it going to be Eddy?”  
“It’s…It’s grandpa…Edmund. Just…Just let me go and I’ll show you. He’s upstairs.” Ed stammered.  
  
Curiosity winning from his impatience, Sherlock slowly released Eddy’s arm.  
“Show me,” Sherlock ordered him. Eddy lead the way up the stairs, while Sherlock followed closely behind.  
On the first floor,  Ed slowly opened a white door to reveal a bedroom. As soon as Sherlock stepped inside he recognized the smell of a dead body.  
In the bed lay Ed’s grandfather Edmund, he seemed to be sleeping, but his almost purple complexion told otherwise.  
“I found him like this, this morning.” Ed told Sherlock, his voice quivering.  
Sherlock immediately noticed a bottle of pills standing on the bedside table. A sleeping medicine, he supposed. As he moved closer he saw the instruction leaflet from the medicine lying next to it, someone had written over the printed words in red ink. Sherlock picked it up carefully.  
“It’s addressed to me,” Ed said, sounding like the message had been written by death itself.  
The first words on the leaflet, that lay beside the corpse that shared his name with the man standing beside Sherlock, read; _Sleep well, Ed._

\---------------------------------------------------------

Molly let her book fall from her bed when her phone chimed. She had been so engrossed in ‘Pride and Prejudice’ that the modern sound of her text alert shocked her. She looked at her screen and saw the text had come from Phil. She smiled at the picture he had sent her of his cat pulling a grumpy face with the caption ‘Toby, don’t you think I look pretty?’  
The last few days she and Phil had gotten to know each other better and Molly was surprised to find that she really liked him. The first few days he had  just seemed like the overly loud crush of her friend Meena. Once Molly found out he liked Harry Potter and also had a cat, she regretted judging him so quickly.  
  
Molly bent over to pick up ‘Pride and Prejudice’ and sighed. _Why couldn’t she be more like Meena?_   Sweet and funny Meena, who liked an equally spontaneous and cheerful boy that probably would ask her out in a couple of days.   
‘Well, you like fictional guys from the 19th century that are stuck-up, proud and manage to insult everyone (seriously tough, why did she find  Mr. Darcy so attractive?). There was never any hope for you, Mol.’  She thought _,_ while she looked at her watch.  
  
It was a quarter to four. In five minutes she had to leave to meet another someone that had mastered the art of the insult.  She hopped out of bed, put her laptop in her bag and grabbed her Chemistry notebook. She was about to leave the room, but stopped in front of the mirror when she caught her reflection.  
Her hair was up in a practical ponytail and on top of her khaki’s she wore red-and-blue plaid shirt. She looked exactly as she usually did. _Is it alright?_ She suddenly wondered. Maybe it was her lipstick that had faded. _Should I put on some more? Or would that look like I’m trying to hard?_ She let out a loud groan. She was going completely paranoid over a lame study date. In one quick movement she snatched her bag and slammed the door behind her.

She arrived at the library five minutes early. She had biked this route many times and knew it only took five minutes, but just to be sure she had left at ten before five.  
With her brown leather bag on her shoulder she walked up the steps to the door of the quaint brick building.  
“Good afternoon, Molly.” The librarian greeted her, tiny wrinkles forming around her eyes as she smiled.  
“Hello, miss Heisy.” In the two short weeks Molly had been in this town, the motherly librarian had already become one of her favorite people.  
“Coming to borrow some more books?” miss Heisy asked.  
“No, just studying tonight. With a friend. He should be here any minute, actually.”  
“Alright, if you need any help with the computers or printer, just let me know.” The librarian replied, still wearing her caring smile.

Molly moved further into the library. When she had passed all the non-fiction shelves, she put her bag down on the large table that stood opposite of the three computers standing against the wall.  
From her bag she got her laptop, her notebook, two pens, three pencils, an eraser and a pencil sharpener. The notebook she put in front of her laptop and she lay the  pencils left of it. She put them all in a perfectly straight line.  
‘Knock of the OCD, Molly’ she thought to herself. She wished she didn’t always try to be little Miss Perfect, but she didn’t know how to stop without feeling out of control.

Content with her arrangement, she sat down in front of it.  And waited. It was two before five, so she expected him to arrive sometime in the next ten minutes. Maybe a bit later, since it was Sherlock she was dealing with.  
She decided to already start up her laptop and look through her notes, being prepared could never hurt. When her laptop was fully turned on and she had read all the notes she made in class, she looked at her watch again. Quarter past five. Molly looked through the shelves to the entrance. He would probably walk in any second.  
Seconds passed and then some more seconds passed. Molly started to wonder if Sherlock thought they were meeting at six. She decided that she should just start working, otherwise they would never finish before closing time.  
  
 _….and this is why our experiment proves the hypothesis to be correct._ Molly finished her sentence and looked at the time on her laptop.   _18: 23_. She had been so engrossed in  writing about ionic bonds, she had not noticed many minutes had passed. Still, after almost one and a half hour she was still alone. From the pit of her stomach she could feel a panic start to rise.  
 _Had they really agreed on five o’clock? Wasn’t it actually on Wednesday? Could there be confusion about which library? Could the road be closed off?  Had she somehow made it all up in her mind?_ Questions filled with despair raced through her mind, making her unable to form one coherent thought.  Molly told herself to stop it. She knew she was being paranoid and it kept her from her work. She let out one big sigh and continued typing.

“Molly? You’re still here?” Molly heard miss Heisy call from the front of the library. “It’s seven thirty, I was supposed to close up half an hour ago.” She had to speak loudly to be heard over the sound of rain falling on the roof.  
“Oh, really? I’m sorry! I’ll get out right now,” Molly replied, trying to keep her voice light. Deep inside, she was still contemplating whether she wanted to burst into a fit of rage or fall to the ground crying.    
She threw all of her carefully laid out supplies in her bag and almost ran to the exit of the library.  
“Goodbye, miss Heisy.” Molly prayed she would not ask about her study-partner that never showed.  
“Goodby-“ Molly slammed the door, so she never would have to find out if miss Heisy was going to.

Through the pouring rain,  Molly  quickly ran to her bike. She did not bother with her helmet and kicked the pedals hard. As she drove off into the dark, she did not know whether it was the rain or tears that wetted her cheeks. With her heart beating loudly in the cold night, she was only certain of one thing; _Sherlock Holmes made her feel things she had never felt before._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed.  
> I love receiving comments, so don't hesistate to leave one. :)
> 
> <3


	5. Rules are made to be broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly decides to confront Sherlock about his behavior. As usual with Sherlock, nothing goes as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, another chapter! Again, I want to thank you guys for all the lovely feedback. You rock!  
> It's a bit shorter chapter this time, but that doesn't mean it's less exciting ;) 
> 
> I hope you guys like it!

If Molly Hooper had one rule about fights, verbal of physical, it was to not  pick them. She, as the sensible girl she was, knew that picking a fight would most certainly result in one of three options; 1. Loss of friends 2. Severe humiliation 3. Injury (physical or emotional). Therefore, she avoided conflicts at all costs. Fortunately, after years of sticking to her principle, this had become relatively easy. Or so it had, until last night.

All morning Molly had been trying to understand what was going on inside her. Logically, she could not explain why she needed to throw her notebook at a random classmate. Still, she felt irresistible urge to do so. Neither could she understand where these foreign feelings came from. Sometimes, she was certain it all boiled up from a burning pit in her stomach. Other times, she could feel them in her tensed muscles that constantly seemed ready for attack. There was one thing she understood perfectly, tough; Who had put them there.

Molly could see him through the cafeteria window. His hands were positioned behind his head, as he lay on one of the picnic tables in the schoolyard. The image of relaxation.  Molly turned on her heels, ready to head outside.  
“Molly, where are you going?” Meena asked her from her seat at their regular table, sounding confused.  
“It’s actually quite nice out. I think I’ll go enjoy the sun for a bit,” Molly answered, trying to add a smile. Just because she felt like strangling someone, did not mean she had to act on it. Or show it.  
Meena, who had caught Molly staring through the window, began to ask: “You are not going to sit with Sher-“  
Before her friend could finish her sentence, Molly was already walking through the cafeteria door. Not only because she wanted to get to a certain picnic table, but also because she did not know if she could be nice to Meena much longer.

‘Calm down, Molly. You’re not going to break your rule because of some stupid boy.’ she told herself, while she crossed the school’s hallway. She could feel the soft winter sun on her face when she walked into the school’s yard. When Molly was only a few steps away from Sherlock, who was still occupying the table with his entire body, she gave herself  some last advice; _Deep breaths, stay calm. Just talk to him like an adult. Never forget the consequences of fighting._

When she reached the picnic table, no reaction came from Sherlock. Did he not notice someone standing in front of him? Or was he ignoring her again? She was so tired of his behavior.  
“Umm… Sherlock, I wanted to ask you something.” Molly began with fake politeness. Still, Sherlock did not respond. He did not even move an inch. What was wrong with him? How could he not notice her? There was no way she was actually that invisible. Molly decided in that moment she was done.  
“Get up! Up!” She commandeered him in a loud voice.  
This seemed to get through to him and he sat up, clearly surprised by the way he had been spoken to.  
“Molly, there is really no need to make such a fuss about….” Sherlock began in his classic condescending tone.  
 Molly could not stand being spoken to like that any longer. Her blood boiled and her rules were quickly fading from her mind.

“Shut it!” She pointed her finger at his chest. “ You are going to explain to me, right now, why you weren’t at the library last night.”  
“I would love to tell you, I really do. It was quite exciting, actually. Unfortunately, I can’t.” The laziness in his voice was in stark contrast with the sharp and forceful way Molly’s words had come out.  
“I’m going to ask you one more time, Sherlock. Where were you last night?” Molly spoke slowly, balling her fists. In the back of her mind she could hear a distant voice telling her to take deep breaths.  
“You don’t believe me? I would actually really like to tell you now,  but I just can’t.” While he told her this, his eyes filled with concern locked with hers. ‘Well, he’s good at pretending like he’s sorry,’ Molly thought.  
“Believe you?! Of course I don’t! You insulted me, ignored me, humiliated me in front of my friends, let me do all the work during class and last night you stood me up! Why would I ever believe you?!” Molly exclaimed. The burning feeling that had been building up inside her, seemed to flow out of her with every word she yelled at him. Her pool filled with anger seemed not to have a bottom.  
Sherlock, surprised by her outburst, stayed silent a few seconds before he spoke:  
“It was that bad, huh?” It seemed like he was actually had not realized how he had treated her. He was a good actor.  
“Don’t pretend like you’re surprised, Sherlock. I know you by now. I know you don’t care.  I know you like to humiliate people just to feel superior. I know you take pleasure in inflicting pain on others, on _me_. And I know you just did not want to come last night. So, please, stop acting like you’re-“

Sherlock swung himself off the table and positioned himself right in front of Molly. The points of their shoes almost touched and she could feel his breath on her neck. Standing so close to him, his lean figure was surprisingly intimidating.  
He looked down to meet her green eyes and began;  
“So, you think you know me? Well… two can play that game,” he told her in deep voice filled with venom. His eyes burning right through her. “Let me see… I know you’re a perfectionist. Insecure. You have various neurotic tendencies. Pretend to like Sally more than you do, because you are intimidated by her. You spend an incredible amount of time dreaming of romance, for someone who’s never been in a relationship.  You lie to please others. _A lot_.  Your biggest fear is abandonment and you are secretly extremely jealous of your friend Meena.”  
Molly felt her knees shake and a lump started to rise in her throat. _How?_ All the fury that had filled her just second ago had been replaced by the desire to stop existing. Sherlock had looked straight through her, had seen her naked self, and scoffed at its hideousness. She wanted to burst in to tears, run away and never return.  
  
Before she got the chance, Meena came running to her in total panic.  
“Molly! Molly!” She called her trough hysteric sobs. Once Meena reached her friend she grabbed her arm, not even noticing Sherlock standing only an inch away.  
“Molly, oh god. Molly you got to he- It’s Phil. He’s.. He’s” Meena was so distressed, she could not speak two words before bursting into sobs again.  
Molly swallowed her own tears. Her friend needed her.   
She held Meena on both sides of her arms and asked calmly; “Calm down. Deep breaths. What’s going on?”  
Meena did as Molly told her and took a deep breath.  
“It’s Philip. He.. he’s had an accident. Wi-With his motorbike,” Meena told her, using everything inside her to keep her tears down. “ I… I need to get to hospital. Oh god, oh god. Molly I’m so scared.”  
The sight of her friend slowly falling apart, hit Molly so hard, she did not even notice Sally walking into the school yard. Sally asked her friends loudly what Molly was doing had been doing with Sherlock. Even when someone from her own group of friends was in a crisis, gossip seemed more important to her.

Molly gave Meena a tight hug. She rubbed her back, while she said; “It’s going to be okay. I’m sure it will. I’ll go get my bicycle and we’ll go to the hospital.”  
During this dramatic turn of events, Sherlock had turned into a pillar of salt. He still stood near the picnic table, wearing a stoic expression only he could pull off.  
  
Forgetting the boy that had just wounded her. Forgetting the classes she still had to attend. Forgetting her helmet and racing with a speed that could never be safe with Meena sitting on the carrier, Molly raced her bike to the hospital. Sherlock Holmes might think she lied to her friends, but the fear she felt in that moment was certainly real. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!  
> Any toughts? Comments? Please let me know! Your comments always put a smile on my face.


	6. Medical Mysteries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly and Meena rush to the hospital to see what happened to Philip, after he has had an accident with his motorcycle. All seems to be well, untill an unexpected visitor shows up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, another chapter. It is a bit longer than the other ones, so I hope it is still readable.  
> For the billionth time I want to thank you guys for all the sweet messages you left! I love you guys!
> 
> Enjoy :)
> 
> UPDATE: I split the initial chapter into two seperate ones, because it was very long.

If you think about it, hospitals are peculiar places. Besides all the antiseptics, white gloves and ugly scrubs a hospital contains a very uncommon group of people. In these usually big white buildings one can find dying grandfathers and newborn babies, hard-working nurses and relapsing alcoholics. Yet, there is one sensation all hospital-goers share; not-knowing. They all come in with hundreds of questions about what is going on with them or their loved one, but instead of having them answered they are ordered to wait. To wait while they wonder why their brother won’t stop coughing blood, if their father will make it through the night and if their new child will have his mother’s eyes. As an intelligent species not-knowing can be seen as the root of all insecurity, fear and anger. So, it takes an even more peculiar person to feel like they belong there.

Luckily for Meena, Molly turned out to be very peculiar. While she started to let out hysteric sobs when they entered the brick building, Molly walked towards the reception desk with her head held high.  
After nervously waiting in line for 15 minutes, Molly asked the large woman behind the desk; “Could you tell us if Philip Bates has checked in?”  
“Let me check. Give me a second, dear.” The woman answered. Beside Molly, Meena started to have another breakdown. Her mascara was smeared all over her face, her eyes bloodshot from all the tears. Molly did so not want to give this reception lady another second.  
“Philip Bates, he checked in early this morning. He’s in room 1.64. You girls can go see him, but he’s probably still asleep.” The answer brought great relief to both of the girls, but only Meena expressed it in a loud sigh. However, the certainty that Phil was in the hospital brought the possibility of all kinds of doom scenarios with it.

As soon as Molly and Meena opened the door to room 1.64, the reception lady was proven wrong. Molly could see Phil’s head turn towards them as they entered the small room. He was definitely awake.  
When Phil’s partly opened eyes recognized Meena, his familiar goofy smile spread across his face. His face, that  contained multiple stitched-up wounds  
“Meena?” He asked in a barely audible voice. It was clear he was probably in a lot more pain, than he let on.  
“Oh my god, Philip!” Meena’s voice cracked and tears started falling from her eyes for the 20th time that day. “I was so worried. What happened? Are you injured?”  
Meena sat down on the chair beside his electronically-operated bed, leaving Molly without a place to sit.  
“I’m really glad you’re here, Meen.” He slowly moved his weakened arm to take her hand in his. Meena took a deep breath, as she started to smile through her tears.  
“I was so scared something terrible had happened and I – we would lose you,” she told him as she squeezed his hand.  
“You should have a little bit more fate in me, then. I’m going nowhere,” Philip reassured Meena, trying to form a lazy smile on his lips. Before she could answer, he brought her hand – that was still planted in his – to his lips and planted a soft kiss on it. Immediately, Meena’s check turned bright red.

Molly tried very hard to find something else in the room to focus on. Although she was glad both of her friends were apparently feeling better, she could not help but wanting to leave. She felt as if in that moment the world was focusing on the young pair near the bed, while she was just a blurry face in the background. Once again, she was cast in the role of secondary character in someone else’s story.  
  
Hoping to also become part of the scene in front of her,  Molly stepped closer and began; “So.. Phil, what exactly did happ-“  
“Yes, excellent question. What did happen, Philip?  Had they tampered with the  brakes or the engine?” Before she could finish, an all too familiar voice coming from behind interrupted her.   _What the hell?!_  
“Sherl-“ Molly could feel her heart start to beat wildly. Philip and Meena, who only seconds ago had only had eyes for each other, looked up in surprise.  
Sherlock held up one finger to silence Molly, expecting an answer form Philip. He seemed completely unfazed by the emotion on both Philip and Meena’s face or the fact that Philip just had an almost fatal accident.  
“Wha- what is he doing is he doing here?” Phil had to put all his effort behind getting the words out. He looked extremely confused by this unfamiliar boy appearing in his hospital room.  As he should be, this was madness.  
“Just trying to not get you killed. Now, _please_ explain what happened to get you in here.” Molly knew she had to stop this. She was certain Meena, who surely could not handle Sherlock showing up on top of everything else that happened that day, was about to faint.  
  
“Sherlock, you really sho-“ Molly tried, using the most authoritative voice she could muster, but was interrupted again. This time not by the arrogant boy standing closely behind her, but by Phil’s soft voice as he tried to make himself heard.  
“I…I was driving my bike to school and then…” Phil squinted his eyes a little, as if it would help him see what exactly had happened that morning. “Then...I got to the crossing and I tried to stop…but…but then I just…I just couldn’t.” Once he finished, he started coughing violently. His entire body shook and Meena’s face became even whiter.  
 **“** So, it was probably the brak –“ Sherlock began to analyze Phil’s answer, the radars turning inside his head almost visible.  
“Sherlock. You had your answer. Phil needs his rest, so leave.” This time Molly was the one to interrupt. She turned herself around fully, so she faced Sherlock directly. When he did not make any attempt to move, she told him; “Go.” She looked at him with all the anger and frustration she had ever felt because of him in her eyes. Somehow, this had an effect on him. Slowly, He turned and began to walk across the white tiles towards the door. Just before he left he turned and gave Molly a defeated look.

Only seconds after Sherlock left, he was replaced by a man and woman in their forties. The blonde woman, who was the embodiment of motherhood, was holding a stack of folded clothes in her arms.  
“We’re back, Phil. I got you your pajamas and some fresh under-“ The blonde began.  
“Mo-om,” Phil groaned and tried to gesture towards Meena. In spite of his blood loss, his cheeks had turned bright red.  
His mother, noticing Meena, exclaimed excitedly: “Oh, Meena! You’re here! How kind of you to come.”  
While the man standing beside Phil’s mother grinned widely, Phil’s mom bent down to give Meena a tight hug. It seemed she did not just have motherly feelings for Phil.  
  
It became clear to Molly, that while she was just as present as anyone else in the room, no one was going to act like she was. Again, she might as well have been watching the whole scene in front of her from a television screen hundreds miles away. It suddenly dawned upon her, that staying in the room or even speaking up would not suddenly make her visible to those that weren’t looking. Staying, accepting the role of observer, would only add to the nauseous feeling that was building in her stomach. Without any further hesitation, she turned on her heels and quietly slipped out of the room.  
  
She started to walk down the long white corridor. Hoping that with every step she put between herself and room 1.64, her disappointment and annoyance would lessen. Doors of several rooms were opened and Molly could caught glimpses of the patients inside. A young girl with pigtails, cried out in pain as the nurse injected a needle in her forearm. The next room revealed a girl around Molly’s age, dressed in a band shirt and spikes, wiping her tears away while the doctor listed possible treatments in a monotone voice. Eventually, Molly reached the end of the hallway and decided to take the elevator to the ground floor.  When the doors opened, she just walked straight into another icy corridor. This time she did not see, but hear.  
“Can’t we try something else, please?” A hoarse voice came from a room with the door slightly ajar. As Molly moved her feet further, she was surrounded by a symphony created by machines. Machines made for testing the patients. Beep. Whhizzz. Beep. Prrrt. Beep. Whhizzz.

It was in that moment, that the bizarreness her surroundings dawned upon her. An endless amount of people, with an endless amount of stories entered this stately building. Usually, because of long-term suffering or sudden accidents, those were stories filled with emotion. However, once they sat down in one of the tiny rooms, all these people – with their heartaches, worries and fears – were reduced to one simple thing; a puzzle. A riddle to be solved. To those who had a job to solve these medical mysteries, their bodies were a landscape to collect clues form. Their history  became a list of events to put inside a brown folder. Once the puzzle had been solved, the outcome was delivered in hard facts and the doctor moved on to his next brain-teaser. In a placed that thrived on not-knowing, to survive one had to become a simple question.

The walls on both sides of the hallway suddenly seemed to be a lot closer to Molly and the beeping of the machines sounded out of control. Molly started taking big steps towards the reception. She needed some fresh air. Behind the hospital building was a big parking lot and Molly decided it was the perfect spot to catch her breath. Through the window of the door that lead to it, she could see a tall shadow already standing outside. Still, she did not turn around.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!! More is coming soon.
> 
> I love to receive feedback. Comments seriously make my day. So please, don't hesitate to leave one! :)


	7. A Shadow in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the second part of what used to be Chapter 6. I split it into two separate chapters, because as one it became too long.  
> Hope you still enjoy :)

As soon as the door slammed close behind her, the cool winter air hit her lungs. While she had been inside, the sunshine had disappeared and it had started to drizzle. The dark clouds above and the fact that it was 4 o’clock on a winter day, made it almost seem like it was nighttime.  
The shadow Molly had seen from inside, turned out to be no-one other than the boy she had just ordered away.  _Could she go nowhere without running into him?_  
To keep the tiny raindrops from hitting his face, he had put a slightly fraying grey deerstalker hat on top of his black curls. The collar of his black leather jacket was turned up and from the corner of his mouth hung cigarette, that created white clouds in the shadowy afternoon.  
  
Molly, who was still too shaken, did not have the will to start another fight. So, while leaning her back against the door, she simply said to him; “Even though you behave like an asshole, I still don’t want you to get lung cancer.”  
Without looking at her, he answered; “Well, maybe I do.”  
Molly, who did not know how to respond to this, walked towards railing of  the steps that lead up to the hospital door and stood beside Sherlock.  
“Why did you come and question Philip?” She asked him. The accusation that was so often in her voice when she spoke to him, was replaced by sincere interest.  
Before he answered, he inhaled and blew white smoke into the dark. “To test a theory,” he spoke slowly, still not meeting Molly’s eyes.  
“What kind of theory?” Molly put her annoyance with his overly mysterious behavior aside to feed her curiosity.  
Sherlock stayed silent for a while. Molly looked at his pale face that was slightly obscured by shadows and saw him squinting his eyes, as if there was something to see in the woods behind the parking lot.  
“Everything is connected.” When he eventually spoke it was almost a whisper. Molly couldn’t be sure if he was addressing her, or himself.  
  
They both stayed quiet for a while. Molly could feel a strange serenity surrounding them. It was like they had stepped out on a desert island and it was just him and her. This somehow made her comfortable enough to ask the question that had been on her mind since  he had entered the hospital room.  
“You said you were trying to…to prevent Phil from getting… murdered. Why…Why do you care?” As soon as she heard herself say it, she felt her cheeks get warm. This was not the kind of question you asked someone. Then again, she was talking to Sherlock.  
He finally looked at her, a cold look in his eyes. “I don’t,” he said defensively. “It’s just very…interesting, it keeps me occupied. Mycroft and I, we used to play this ga-“ He stopped midsentence, realizing he had said too much. His expression had gone from intimidating to a face that contained more sadness than she had ever seen. Quickly he looked away.

‘Mycroft?’ Molly wondered. ‘A friend? No. Family? Could be.” She debated whether she should ask him, seeing how hurt he had looked. Looking hurt was very un-Sherlock.  
Molly sighed and looked down at her shoes. She smiled a little when she realized Sherlock and she were wearing the same ones. Converse. His black. Hers bright pink.  
“You know… about what I said earlier today-“  
“Don’t. You were right,” He interrupted her, the defensiveness back in his voice.

Her gaze swept over his body, towards his face.  In that moment, in some strange way, standing in the rain behind a slowly deteriorating hospital, she saw him for the first time. It started to dawn upon her that she and those doctors, who always looked at puzzles and never at the people, were not very different. All this time, she had either wanted to know more about him or had longed for a confirmation of the theories she had about his being. She had decided on a diagnosis the day she laid eyes on him and had constantly been trying to fit the symptoms he showed into it.  
  
Her mouth started to move without her realizing it and before she could think, the words were out in the open. “No, I wasn’t. You just wish I was.  _Being_ that asshole would be whole lot easier for you. Because when you care, people can hurt you. They can leave and stop playing games with you. So you act like - even make yourself believe you are -  a terrible person, to make no-one can ever get too close. “  
Sherlock’s hand, holding his cigarette, stopped mid-air. He stood frozen in his place a few seconds before he slowly, almost mechanically, turned towards Molly. His gaze went over her entire body, as if he had to confirm it was really her. When his eyes met hers, it was as if they were filled with stormy oceans. Anger, fear and surprise rolling on the violent waves.  
“You- you’re wrong,” he told her in a deep voice that held all the intent of frightening her. Yet, it in her ears it sounded like he was the one that was frightened the most.

Molly sighed. Giving him a look that seemed to say “Oh, Sherlock…”  
Standing in front of her in his worn converse, fraying hat, trying to stand tall, Molly could see she had been right about him this time. Sherlock was not a mystery to solve or  a romantic hero to fall in love with. Sherlock was a boy who was very lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!  
> I would love to hear your thoughts/opinions. So, if you'd like, leave a comment :)


	8. A Secret Admirer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's almost Valentine's day! The entire school turns pink, roses are being passed out and everyone is excited for the valentine's dance. Well, except for Molly who's had other things on her mind. But when it turns out she has a secret admirer, a very mysterious one, she can't help but get caught up in all the excitement. Unfortunately, love isn't always easy.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woop woop! Here it is! A new chapter and it's filled with many pink things, hearts and teddy bears. :)  
> Even if you didn't have a valentine this year, I hope you still enjoy!! ;)
> 
> I'm always curious about what you guys think, so please let me know in the comments!
> 
> Lots of love,  
> Sabine

The weeks that followed Phil’s accidents were ones of change. Well, at least for Molly. First of all, she got someone else to sit next to in Bio. She used to work together with Phil, but since he had a broken arm and various torn ligaments he still wasn’t attending school. Fortunately, her new partner did not disappoint. It was David. A broad-shouldered soccer-playing senior guy, who everyone at school simultaneously looked up to and wanted to be friends with. Including Molly.  
  
Speaking of partners, Molly had made another positive development relating to a certain Chemistry partner. After that afternoon behind the hospital, Sherlock had started slowly fading from her mind. He still wasn’t gone, but Molly wasn’t losing sleep over him anymore. No more worrying about what she had said or done.  No more breaking rules about fighting. Molly was back in control again.  Or at least, that was what she told herself.  
  
The last and most recent change did not just affect Molly, but the entire school. In the last two days, the entire school was filled with hearts, roses and all sorts of pink objects. Valentine’s day was approaching. Unlike Molly’s school in London, Valentine’s day was actually a big deal at this school. Students could send roses to each other and leave romantic messages, but most importantly there was the Valentine’s dance. An event that had been part of every student’s conversation during the past week.

It was also part of the conversation Molly, Meena and Sally were having, while enjoying the first tiny rays of sunlight on a bench in the schoolyard. They became distracted, when suddenly a blonde boy came jogging towards them.  David.  
“Hi there, ladies.  Molly,” He gave her a little nod, while greeted all the girls with a broad smile. He was holding a small box in his left hand.   
“Hi, David” Sally and Meena both said in their sweetest voice.   
With a tiny smile Molly just said “Hi.” She had actually gotten to know him quite well and it was strange to suddenly be reminded of how everyone saw him as _the_ popular guy. Not that she blamed them, though. With his blonde curls, crooked smile and smooth talk, he simply demanded admiration.   
“You girls want some chocolate?” He asked, opening the box he held. “It’s for charity, so I thought I’d buy a whole box from the Valentine’s committee. It’s way too much, for just me.” 

“Don’t you have someone special to share it with?” Sally asked, looking up at him innocently. Molly felt herself become uncomfortable. She really wasn’t in the mood to discuss this kind of stuff.  
While a lot of guys would have been somewhat embarrassed by this question, David just gave her his famous half-smile and answered; “No, I don’t. Not _yet.”_  
This made Sally’s eyebrows fly up,  Molly could almost see her sorting through recent gossip in her made. Trying to figure who David’s new girl would be.  
“So, what about you  girls? Someone taking you to the dance?” He continued.   
Molly spotted just a tiny bit of nervousness in his voice and wondered if this question had been the entire reason he had come over.   
“I’m going with Sam, but just as friends,” Sally answered overly nonchalant. “And Meena is probably going with Ian.”   
This caused Meena’s expression to turn sour, because she had just told Sally she would go with Phil or not at all. Yet, she was too shy to call out her friend on her bossy behavior.   
  
“What about you, Molly? Who you’re going with?” David asked her, while he looked at her with a gaze that was much more intense than usual.   
Molly felt her stomach turn a little. _Why did it suddenly feel awkward between them?_  
“Uh…. No one. I mean, I don’t even know if I’m going. I mean, no one asked her.” His question and the reality of her answer, turned her into a blubbering mess.  
 As soon as she spoke the words though,  she noticed that David  relaxed a little. Or maybe she had also made that up.   
“I’m sure someone will ask you,  Mol, ” he replied with suddenly serious expression. “Now please take this chocolate from me, before I have to get back to class.” As if nothing had happened, he fell back into his charming behavior and the girls all took several chocolates from his box.  Then he told them goodbye and disappeared inside the school building.

It happened the next day during Math. While Mrs. Stone worked out a differential equation on the whiteboard, the door of the classroom opened and two girls in pink sweaters walked in. In their arms they held several bright red roses.   
“Hi guys! We got some roses for you!” The shorter of the two addressed the class. “Let me see we got one for… Sally Donovan”   
Sally, who was sitting beside Molly, flashed the classroom a triumphant smile while she received the rose. Molly gave her a small smile and resumed to stare at her pink sneakers, while the girls of the Valentine’s committee called out various names and handed out roses. She knew she wouldn’t receive anything and didn’t really care who did, so she wished they would just hurry up and let the lesson continue.  
“And we got a rose for…. Molly Hooper!” One of the rose-girls called out excitedly. Molly immediately looked up, eyes wide with surprise. _What?! Who?_

With shaking hands she accepted the blood-colored flower. A small white card was attached to the stem. Molly turned it over and read;

_Green picnic table. Schoolyard. 1 PM.  
Love, your valentine_

As soon as she finished, she felt her heart begin to beat faster and an torrent of questions flooded her mind. _Who was it from? Why was he being so mysterious? What would happen at 1 PM? Should she go?  
  
_ “Omg, Molly! Who’s it from?” Sally interrupted her train of thoughts by squeezing her arm. She was leaning over her shoulder, clearly trying to decipher what was on the card.   
“Uhh… It doesn’t say. He wants me to meet him at 1PM.” Molly explained hesitantly.   
“How mysterious. You are going, right?” Sally said, more like an order than a question.  
“Uhh… Yeah, I gue-” She started to assure her friend, but was interrupted by the rose-girls.  
“…And none for Gretchen Wiener. Bye guys!” They called out and left the classroom.   
  
Going to class had become useless and during lunch Molly did not feel hungry. She just couldn’t stop thinking about the rose, or rather the mysterious message that was attached to it. The question that plagued her the most was who it was from. Her first instinct had been to relate the message to the conversation with David from yesterday. Yet, the possibility of a guy like _him_ asking a girl like _her_ out seemed kind of, well, impossible. Besides, he really wasn’t her type. (If she actually had type…) Still, she could remember very clearly that he had been interested in knowing if someone had asked her to the dance yet.   
  
Molly sighed and plucked at her uneaten sandwich. She let her eyes wonder to the schoolyard. Seeing an empty picnic table, brought back all that had happened a few weeks ago. For just a moment she wondered. _What if….What if the message was from him? _After all, he liked to be mysterious. Molly felt her stomach turn into an even bigger not. _‘_ Stop it. Stop it.’ She thought to herself. She was over this. Over _him_ and she wouldn’t let him make her feel like this anymore.

Molly looked at her leather watch and saw it was 12:58. There was no more time for speculating now. She was going to find out who her mysterious admirer was. As she rose from her seat, Sally squeezed her arm and told her; “Good luck.”   
  
With shaking knees and clammy hands Molly stepped through the big red doors, into the surprisingly quiet schoolyard.  As soon as she was outside, her gaze immediately moved towards the picnic table. Her heart made a little leap as she saw who was standing beside it. David.   
In his arms he held a big teddy bear that held a big red heart in his arms. Upon seeing her, his mouth turned into a big white grin.   
Molly surprised, relieved and excited, had to force her legs to keep on moving towards him. When she finally reached the table David began to speak.  
“Molly Hooper,” he began, saying her name like a caress. “I think Teddy has something important to ask you.”  
With a big goofy smile he handed her the bear. Only now, did she see that on the heart the bear held something was written. ‘Will you be my Valentine?’  
With shaking hands she accepted the toy. She almost let out a squeal of excitement, as she hugged it tightly to her chest. _Was this really happening?! To her?!  
_ “Off… Off course I’ll be your Valentine, David.” She told him, stumbling over her own words. She had dreamed up moments like this so many times and now it was suddenly becoming real. Exactly, like she had imagined it. She needed someone to pinch her.   
  
Suddenly, David gave her a serious look with his sweet brown eyes. Carefully, he took the bear out of her arms and took both of her hands in his.   
“Molly, the best biology partner in the history of biology partners, I also have something to ask you.” An unusually shy smile came to his face.   
He took a deep breath and asked her in an earnest voice; “Will you go to the Valentine’s dance with me?”   
Molly was certain her heart stopped beating in that moment. Although, she had never thought of David in _that_ way – they weren’t even that close as friends, really – she was suddenly certain that all she had ever wanted was to spend a whole night dancing with him. In a pink dress. In his arms. Maybe even a kiss at midnight. _(!!!)_  
“Yes…Yes,” Molly nodded, her cheeks turning pink. She really wasn’t certain how to express all her excitement. “I’d really like to go to the dance with you.”   
As soon as she got the words out, David gave her a really tight hug. With a triumphant smile on his face, he told her; “You’re the best, Molly.”   
  
The sound of the ringing bell brought Molly back down to earth. She hadn’t realized it, but the spot they were standing in was in direct sight of the cafeteria and the Science labs on the second floor. It seemed like David and hers intimate moment had gotten quite an audience, out of all the windows she could see students staring at them. She felt her stomach make another flop.   
“I got to go, I got chemistry.” Molly told David with a tiny smile on her face.   
“Alright, just don’t change your mind while I’m gone.” He told her playfully. ‘Oh, I wouldn’t dare,’ she thought to herself,  feeling the butterflies in her stomach as she walked back into the school.

On wobbly legs Molly, still holding Teddy in her arms,  managed to reach the Chemistry classroom on the first floor. Her head was spinning with images of teddy bears, candy cotton dresses and words filled with affection. As soon as she entered the room though, her pink cloud disappeared. In her usual spot Sherlock sat, looking liked a cracked porcelain statue. When he saw her standing in the doorway, he got up almost mechanically and started to walk towards her. He looked at her once. His eyes ice-cold, but she could see that the hidden sadness was much more present than usual. The butterflies in her stomach suddenly froze. Then he walked past her, brushed her shoulder barely and exited the room.   
He did not even hear Mr. Abott calling out in anger and surprise “Sherlock!”.  
  
Molly realized she had been standing in the doorway way too long, the teddy bear dangling from her left hand all the time. Confused by her emotions, she slowly walked over to her usual seat. The one Sherlock had just been sitting in. On the table lay a stack of papers, a neatly typed-up document. The front page read: _Salts and precipitation reactions – by Molly Hooper and Sherlock Holmes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you guys think? Too many roses? Too little teddybears?   
> Let me know in the comments!! I love hearing your opinions.
> 
> PS A big thumbs up for you, if you spotted the Mean Girls reference. ;)


	9. A Princess for His Palace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A girl has moved into Sherlock's mindpalace and he isn't sure how he feels about it. Meanwhile, he is trying to figure out what is going on in his hometown, but is interrupted by his father who has something to tell him. When the Holmeses run out of milk, Sherlock unexpectedly makes an important discovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Here it is, another chapter. It's not just about milk - I swear! ;)  
> I want to thank you guys for the amazing response I got on my last chapter. Your comments keep me going! :)
> 
> I hope you enjoy! And as usual, I'm curious about what you think, so please leave a comment!
> 
> Love,  
> Sabine

It had been almost two weeks since she moved in. He had mixed feelings about suddenly having her in his mind palace, but right now he hated it.  
Sherlock’s eyes scanned over the various pictures, maps, newspaper cuttings and notes that were pinned to his wall. The dials in his head were turning, but they just wouldn’t click.  
“Dogs bark. The noise disturbs the neighbors. Suddenly, they are poisoned with household pesticides,” he mumbled to himself as tried to connect all the events of the previous weeks. “The O’Malleys’ business is discovered. One of them is poisoned by his sleeping pills. Not much later, Phil drunkenly vandalizes a farmer’s shed. His brakes are cut and he gets into an accident.”  
He closed his eyes. Entering his palace. Obviously, someone had decided to start to play cop in this little village. Controlling the inhabitants, by (nearly) killing them. But who? And how could he be so successful? What was the connection between these events?  To know the criminal, he needed a connection…  
  
“You’re slower than I thought, _asshole._ ” Molly, in his mind palace, shocked him out of his concentration. Sherlock could see her perfectly, walking the stairs between ‘Survival techniques’ and ‘Poisons’. The sight of her brought him back to last Friday; Him bursting out of the classroom, leaving Molly in the doorway.  His eyes flew open. It had had nothing to do with her. He would have skipped Chemistry anyway, he just needed to deliver their report. There was also no other reason for her to show up in _his_ head, except for… for…  
“Ooh, Sherlock….” He could hear her say, even though he had left the spaces in his mind.  
“Out!” He yelled , while he picked up a book from his desk and hurled it at the wall.  
‘Smack!’ it went and fell on his bed. Taking deep breaths, he tried to contain himself.  He knew he losing control and he couldn’t stand it.  
  
“Sherlock?” Suddenly a voice came from downstairs. “Is everything alright up there?” His father.  
“Yes dad, everything is great!” He reassured his father in his sweetest voice, hoping that he would accept it as the truth. Unfortunately, footsteps were already coming up the stairs.  
“Sherlock,” his father began while he peeked his head through the slit of the door. “What is going on up here?” As his father walked into his room, Sherlock noticed he was still wearing the Christmas sweater his mother had given to him.  It was February, for god’s sake.  
When Sherlock didn’t answer his father continued, while he sat down on the bed right in front of his son;  “I can tell something’s up. You’ve been acting strange all weekend  and-“  
“Did mom tell you to talk to me?” He interrupted his father, while avoiding looking into his concerned brown eyes.  
His father shook his head a little and admitted with a faint smile; “She did. So, is she right? Is this about a girl?”

In that moment, Sherlock wished he had been born to a different mother. For once in his live he didn’t go out of his way to conceal all the clues and immediately not only she, but the entire family knew what was going on.  
He sighed, still pretending to study the pictures above his father’s head and answered; “I guess mom’s starting to slip up. Like I said, everything is _fine._ Perhaps, I just ate too much of that cranberry pie of hers.”  
“You know, Sherlock. If there is one thing I learned from that brilliant pie-baking mother of yours, it is not to be afraid. “ He launched into a probably rehearsed speech, dismissing Sherlock’s answer. “Boy, was I scared to ask that woman. When she finally agreed, though, I fell for her immediately. And that terrified me, because how was I ever going to spend my days with the most sharp-minded _and_ sharp-tongued individual I’d ever met? I remember telling myself over and over that I shouldn’t love a girl like her. Yet,  I did and look where we are now. So when you get your chance, Sherlock, don’t be afraid to take it.”  
After his father had finished speaking Sherlock made a fatal mistake, he looked into his eyes. Overflowing with tenderness, they pleaded him to be honest with himself and his father. Deeply buried feelings suddenly hit him in the chest and he knew his father’s words had been spot on.  
  
Even though he was reluctant to admit it, he was afraid. Terrified even, of the fact that Molly had been able to see right through him. Somehow she had discovered the secrets that he kept, even from himself. All the years of trying to hide all that he kept inside – to be fully control what others got to see – disappeared when she was around. Because when they were together, the roles changed and Sherlock was no longer the only shrewd observer around.

“Ahem,” Sherlock’s father cleared his throat and Sherlock realized he had been staring blankly at the wall for several minutes.  Feeling slightly disoriented, he tried to concentrate on his father who slowly got up from his bed.  
“I also had something else to ask you. We’re out of milk and your mother wanted to bake an apple pie, so could you go by the supermarket en pick some up?” He asked with a smile, like nothing had happened.  
“Sure.” Sherlock answered and immediately ran down the stairs, leaving a stunned Mr. Holmes in his room. With a spinning head and a family that  would only make it worse, getting milk had suddenly become an interesting prospect.

When Sherlock arrived at the supermarket,  he was  ready to murder someone. On the way he had tried to regain control over himself, hoping that stowing away some of the feelings would help him think clearly again. Unfortunately, Molly would not stop running through his mind like a maniac. Throwing over the interior in her way. He really didn’t need this right now, there was a murderer to be caught!

Sherlock navigated through the maze of shelves, passing the garden section and the tools section, to finally reach the milk aisle. He looked for the milk his parents always bought (marveling at the utter stupidity of having over fifty different kinds to choose from, when really they were  all exactly the same), while trying to ignore a rather large lady who was speaking loudly into her cellphone. She was having a heated argument with her husband about eggs. Sherlock comforted himself with the knowledge he had just acquired that she would be divorced within a year and would probably not live to see 61.

Having found the right milk, he started to move away from the lady and towards check-out. When he joined the long line at Lane 5, three loud boys in the line that were around his age caught his attention. They were loading up matches, bottles of lamp oil and rope . To some these might seem like random groceries, but Sherlock knew the moment he saw it that the boys were going to have a bonfire.  A very big bonfire. Sherlock stepped sideward to catch a glimpse of their faces and when he saw he immediately felt a sharp pang in his chest. It was David with two of his friends.  
Even though the beep of the scanners at check-out and the other costumers  were creating a lot of noise, the three boys were making themselves perfectly audible.  
  
“This is going to be sick!” The tallest friend said excitedly.  
“Haha, yeah. This is going the be legendary, bigger than any other year,” the brown-haired friend replied.  
“So, do we all have a cover?” The tallest – and according to Sherlock the thickest – friend asked in reply. Somehow, this question made the two boys turn towards David.  
“What?! I can’t help it I don’t have a girlfriend or a younger brother who goes to our school,” David told his friends defiantly. Sherlock was certain now that they were going to do something very illegal. Something they would need an alibi for.  
“Yeah, but did it work out with that girl? Morgan or something,” the brown-haired one asked David, obviously trying to mock him.  
“Molly,” David answered, while Sherlock froze. They were going to use her. Sherlock cursed himself for not noticing something when David had asked Molly out. He had let himself get distracted.  
“And I haven’t told her anything yet. I’ll take her to the dance and at 10 I’ll make up some story about why I have to leave and tell her to make everyone believe I was with her the whole night. She’ll do it, probably just to brag to her friends. Seriously, why else did you think I asked her? Girls like her are desperate, they’ll do anything.” David continued with a triumphant smile, obviously very content about his little plan.  
  
Sherlock felt his heart start to beat wildly, but not because of the boys’ secret plan. No, he could no longer lie to himself. He had never felt so jealous or so angry in his live. And he knew all too well, it was because of _her._ Standing there in the checkout line a thousand different ways to deal with this situation ran through his head. He could go out of his way to ruin David – and someday he probably would – but that wouldn’t help the girl that kept running through his mind. Suddenly, Sherlock remembered his father’s words and he knew. This was his chance and he wasn’t going to be afraid. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks a lot for reading!
> 
> I'd love to hear what you think! Should Sherlock's dad have worn that sweater? And should Sherlock stop complaining about the milk section? ;) Please let me know in the comments!


	10. An Unexpected Visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly is getting ready for the dance and she is very excited to finally have her own special night with David. Yet, when an unexpected visitor shows up at her doorsteps, her entire night changes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is. Finally a chapter that is a bit more happy and fluffy, still I hope it's also a bit exciting.   
> It's a bit long, because... well I just need a lot of cute and akward high schooly moments with Molly and Sherlock. Also, Sherlock on a motorcycle. ;)
> 
> I really hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think in the comments!

“Ouch!” Molly yelled as her mother put another pin in her hair.  
“Just stay still, so I can put the last one in,” Diana Hooper told her nervous daughter. Once she finished putting Molly’s glossy brown hair in an elegant up-do,  she held up a mirror so Molly could see what she had created on the back of her daughter’s head.   
“It’s gorgeous!” Molly exclaimed as she saw the curls that were bundled together with various pins with little diamonds on them, creating a kind of bun. It matched with the tiny diamonds that lined the top of her dress.   
  
Diana lead Molly to the tall bathroom mirror. She stood behind her, as Molly finally got see her entire ensemble for the Valentine’s dance.  Eventually,  Molly had chosen for a bright yellow dress instead of a pink one.  The sweetheart neckline, tight waist and the flowy skirt that ended right above the knee made Molly feel more elegant than ever before. Kind of like Belle, her favorite Disney princess.   
“Oh, Molly. You look gorgeous. You’re going to have such a great time tonight,” Diana told her daughter, while she gave both of Molly’s arms a little squeeze.  A proud smile had formed on her face.  
  
“Thanks, mom. I’m sure I will,” she replied with an equally big smile. She could feel the butterflies in her stomach flapping wildly, as a million scenarios about how tonight could go played out in her mind. She had read about nights like this a hundred times in her books and had fantasized about it a thousand times more. She knew this was going to be _her_ night. This was going to be the night she would dance around in a dress that made her look like elegance itself. The night all her friends would marvel at how she shined. The night when she would be kissed when the clock struck twelve. The night she would finally find true love.

At a quarter before nine Molly was sitting in the living room, facing the front window. From where she sat she had a perfect view of the front of her house and the clock hanging on the wall at all times.  David had told her he would pick her up at eight thirty, but she wanted to be prepared if he showed up early. Also, doing anything else made her too nervous. Every time the dials on the clock told her a minute had passed, her heart made a little leap.   
  
After 14 minutes had past and it was 8:59, Molly was certain she would die of a heart-attack. This many beats per minute couldn’t be healthy. The more rational side of her reminded her that there David could be a couple of minutes late. Still, that meant he could arrive _any minute_ now.   
 It turned out that any minute was quite a broad definition, because at 9:15 no one had knocked on the door yet. Molly tried to tell  herself that being 15 minutes wasn’t that strange, but felt herself starting to panic. _Maybe she should call him? Just to check…  
  
_ Immediately she stood up and ran upstairs to grab her phone from her room. She snagged it from her desk to run down again and position herself in her original spot in the leather chair. Sitting there with the phone in her hand, she suddenly wasn’t so certain about calling him anymore. _Maybe she should just wait a little longer…._ After debating it for a little while, she decided she would call him at 9:25, but prayed she wouldn’t have to.  
  
Unfortunately, she had. The clock on her phone told her it was 9:26 and reluctantly she started to dial his number. As she heard the dial tone, worry, anger and despair raged on inside her. She felt as if her heart was going to explode when she finally heard his voice, but she could feel it sink just as fast when it turned out to be his voicemail. When the beep finally came, she had to muster up all the energy inside her to say. “Hey David, this is Molly…. I thought we had agreed that you would pick me up at nine… but…uhm…but I haven’t heard from you yet. So… if you get this could you call me back. Uhm…bye,” on the last words her voice cracked and she could feel her eyes get wet. A certain time at the library came back to her and she knew that it was always going to be like this. She would be forgotten.

                                                                                                                 -------------------------------  
  
Sherlock’s knuckles turned white as he grabbed the handles of his black motorbike even harder. He could feel his heart racing, his breaths coming fast. ‘Calm down!’ He told himself, but knew that would be impossible. Tonight nothing was certain and for once the unknown didn’t excite him, but frustrate him instead. He turned the corner and rode into the street that lead straight to school. When he left it had been 9:35, but he drove fast in case David would decide to make an early exit.   
  
Suddenly he slammed the brakes. Did he see that correctly? Or had his nerves somehow start to betray his eyes? No, he would never let that happen. He was certain he had seen a girl that looked exactly like Molly through the front window of one of the houses he had just passed. Besides, he knew she lived in this street so it wouldn’t it could be a very reasonable possibility. Still, David should have picked her up a long time ago.   
Quickly, Sherlock turned his bike around and started to head the way he came. When he passed house number 56, his knuckles turned white again. There she was, wearing a yellow dress while she nervously paced the living room. Sherlock immediately knew this meant a change in his plans. Luckily, he was the master of improvisation .

\------------------------------

Molly knew she just should give up, take of her dress and hide herself between the covers of her bed. It was five before ten, she had been pacing the living room for the last ten minutes and her parents had stopped trying to talk to her five minutes before that. She knew it was hopeless, still her feet kept on going. _Tap. Tap. Tap. Trrrriiiiiiinng._ Molly froze completely. Had she heard that correctly? Was there really someone at the door? Had he finally come?  
With a heart beating so loudly, that she was certain it would jump out of her chest she started moving towards the door. With a shaking hand she grabbed the door handle and slowly opened the door.  
Her heart really did stop when she saw who was standing in the doorway. With his black curls, cunning eyes and slender, but tall figure, he certainly wasn’t David.   
  
“Good evening, Molly” he greeted her with a smug smile on his face. Obviously amused by her surprised reaction.   
Molly opened her mouth to respond, but she had completely lost the ability to speak.   
“Molly! Is that your date?” Diana called to her daughter, as she moved from the kitchen to the hallway.  
“Please, come in.” She told Sherlock with a kind smile and Molly stepped aside as he entered the house. “It’s David, right?”   
“Sherlock, actually. Nice to meet you, Mrs. Hooper.” Sherlock politely shook Diana’s hand. Molly couldn’t believe her eyes. It was as if a completely different person, a nice and polite one, had somehow crawled into Sherlock’s skin. And why was he here, wearing a tux , anyway?  
“I thought you told me David was taking you to the dance, Molly.” Diana said to her daughter, not seeming very concerned about the mix-up.   
“No, I’m taking her. Though, she does have a friend who’s called David,” Sherlock explained to Molly’s mother, before Molly could say anything herself.  
Accepting this explanation, Diana told them excitedly; “I have to take a picture of you two. Don’t leave, I’ll go get the camera,” and walked up the stairs.  
  
The second she was out of sight Molly hissed at Sherlock; “What the hell are you doing?”   
Sherlock looked down on her, his eyes kind and told her with a faint smile; “Not being an asshole.” Molly felt her stomach turn, as she realized he had remembered her words. She wasn’t certain how she felt about going to the dance with him, but he had at least saved her from the humiliation of being stood up and she had to give him credit for that. Also, he was handling this very smoothly.  
“Okay, kids. Why don’t you go into the living room, so we can take some pictures,” Diana said as she came down the stairs with a camera in her hand and a wide smile on her face.   
Doing as Molly’s mother had told him, Sherlock walked into the living room, seeming more comfortable in Molly’s home than Molly herself. Diana herself, followed behind closely.   
“Why don’t you guys go stand in front of the fireplace,” Diana instructed the two teenagers, while turning on the camera. “Okay, very good. Now, smile.”  
Standing in front of the fireplace, Molly could suddenly feel Sherlock’s arm around her waist. She tried to smile, but her cheeks had turned bright red.   
“Okay, one more. Molly, smile a little more,” Her mother told her, her pushy tendencies shining true.   
Right before the camera flashed once more, Sherlock squeezed her side a little. Almost making her jump.   
“Smile,” he whispered in her ear, his breath on her neck making her shudder. _These were going to be the worst pictures ever_.   
  
When their little photo-shoot finally ended and they were ready to leave, Molly’s dad suddenly appeared in the hallway. ‘Oh god, please no’ Molly thought as soon as she saw him. Fortunately, the meeting between her date (what a strange thing to call Sherlock) and her father went quite well. They greeted each other politely and they both managed to say nothing offensive or embarrassing.   
Only right before they were about to walk out the door, her father told Sherlock;   
“I want her home by one o’clock. If she’s not, then you will have to answer to me.” Although it was supposed to be threatening, answering to Molly’s father – who was a skinny, glasses-wearing man who looked like a high school math teacher – didn’t seem very daunting.   
Yet, Sherlock answered in a sincere voice; “Don’t worry, sir. I’ll take good care of her. And if I don’t she’s quite capable of letting me know that.” While he spoke those words, he put his hand on the small of Molly’s back and lead her out the door.  
Just before it closed behind them, she could hear her  mother call out; “Have fun!”

When they were outside, Sherlock started to walk towards 45a. Immediately, Molly started to panic.   
“Sherlock where are you going? You are not telling me this was all just a….” She began to say to him, not moving any further from her home.   
Sherlock spun around and interrupted her. “A little faith, please. Transport is that way.” He pointed his thumb towards the neighbors fence. Molly now noticed the black motorbike that was parked against it.   
  
When they reached the bike, Sherlock continued. “Your parents probably wouldn’t appreciate you riding off on the back of a bike. So, I thought it would be better to park it a little out of view.”   
Molly could feel her stomach tighten and knew Sherlock was right. Her parents would so not agree with this and she hadn’t expected to go to the dance this way either. But nothing tonight was how she had expected it, so she didn’t protest as Sherlock started to slip the helmet over her head. His skilled fingers touched her chin as he closed the clasp under it. Immediately her breath caught in her throat. Probably aware of the effect him standing so close had on her, a crooked smile formed on his lips.   
When he finished, he climbed on the bike and pleaded her; “Please get on.”   
Hesitantly she swung her leg over the leather seating. Sitting down, her face almost completely pressed into Sherlock’s back. _Holy shit, he was close._ She could feel the warmth from his chest through his coat and tuxedo. He kicked the pedal and the engine roared to live.

“Hold on tight,” he commanded her. She didn’t have a chance to protest, because as soon as he drove off to school she was pressed up against him. She wrapped her arms around his waist as tight as she could, because this was going to be one crazy ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> So, what did you guys think? And what should happen at the dance?
> 
> Please let me know! I always love comments, they are what keep me going!


	11. The Night of Her Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and Molly are at the dance! Besides some mean looks and lacking dancing skills (not Sherlock's off course ;)), this night might be a lot like Molly's fantasies. Well, untill Sherlock has a pretty important realization....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's time for the dance!!! Yeay!   
> I thought it might be time for a bit more happy chapter, so here it is.   
> Thanks again for all the sweet comments! Keep them coming! I love hearing from you guys.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> PS Those of you who wanted David to get humiliated: Let's just say he has a very interesting night ahead of him......

While the houses on the side of the road flashed by and the school came in sight, Molly realized that riding a motorcycle wasn’t the only thing she hadn’t done before tonight. It was also the first time she had forgotten to think something trough. Only when Sherlock pulled up in front of the school’s fence did it hit her that beside the fact she would get strange looks from the entire school, she had no idea how to actually have fun with Sherlock Holmes.

“Nervous?” Sherlock asked as if he had read her mind. He started to reach for Molly’s helmet, but she was adamant to take it off herself this time.  
“A little. It’s all just very…uhm… unexpected, you know.” She answered, mustering up a smile.  
“I like the unexpected. So, let’s go,” he replied confidently, while he started to lead her towards the front door.

The moment they entered the school’s gymnasium, they were swallowed in a sea loud music and moving bodies. When they started to move towards the dance floor Sherlock grabbed her hand. Molly could feel the stares on her back and swallowed hard. She was nervous alright.   
They were still moving when Molly heard a voice coming from behind her.   
“Molly! Molly!” Molly turned around and saw  Meena standing near the table with drinks, trying to get her attention. She tugged Sherlock’s hand a little to let him know he should stop moving.  
  
“Molly! You came!” Meena tried to make herself heard above the music, when Molly had finally reached her. Only now did Molly see Sally and Sam standing beside her. “I thought you wouldn’t come anymore.”   
Molly was about to reply when suddenly all her friends looked as if they had seen a ghost appear. Off course they hadn’t seen a real ghost, it was Sherlock. He was standing beside Molly, still holding her hand tightly in his.  
Eventually Sally decided to break the awkward silence.  
 “Molly, I thought you were going with David, but I haven’t seen him yet. So, where is he?”   
In that moment Molly had the desire to fall through the floor and disappear, as well as the longing to smash in Sally’s head. She just really didn’t want to relive the humiliation of being stood-up.   
  
“He isn’t here. When it turned out he wasn’t quite ‘the perfect gentleman’ everyone thought he was, Molly was kind enough to let me bring her to the dance. Oh, and try to stop looking so constipated, it doesn’t go well with your dress.” Sherlock replied without hesitation.   
Molly squeezed his hand a little. In other circumstances she would have found it annoying that he had spoken for her, but right now she was just very grateful he didn’t mention her being stood-up. He didn’t even claim her as his date.  
  
Ignoring Sherlock’s insult, Sally continued her interrogation.  
“So, is he your date?”   
Molly realized the choice was up to her. For a moment she hesitated, but then she felt Sherlock’s cool hand in her sweaty one. Without any further doubt, she answered; “Yes. Sherlock is my date.”   
  
While she saw Sally’s face turn sour, her hand received a little squeeze.  
 “And as her date I have the obligation to dance with her – if she wants to – so if you’d please excuse us,” Sherlock cut in.   
Molly could feel her nervousness return. _Dancing? With Sherlock?_ An image that was both horrifying and hilarious came to her mind.   
Yet, when she looked up Sherlock’s green eyes (hadn’t they been blue before?) were looking in hers expectantly.   
So, she said; “Yes, let’s dance.”   
Before the moment the words were out of her mouth, Sherlock  was pulling her onto the dance floor. Molly only just caught a glimpse of a nearly-fainting Meena, a clearly pissed-off Sally and a very confused Sam staring at them.

It didn’t take Molly long to figure out Sherlock was surprisingly a pretty good dancer. An excellent one, actually. While she swayed to the beat of the music awkwardly, he moved smoothly behind her. While the lights flashed and the music beat on, his hands never left her waist. Molly’s heart beat wildly as she felt his hard chest press to her back, his gentle touch sending tingles through her spine. Suddenly, in one swift movement, he turned her around so she was facing him. She barely had time to catch her breath, before he put his hand on her back to pull her closer.

After a few more songs Molly felt her feet get sore, but she was too afraid to break the spell between them to pull away. As if the universe (or the DJ) had read her mind, suddenly a slow song came on. Molly looked up at Sherlock, unsure if he considered slow-dancing as part of his obligations as a date. Catching her staring, he flashed her his famous crooked smile. Before she realized it, his hands were sliding down towards her waist. Understanding that as a ‘yes’, Molly softly placed her shaking hands on his shoulders.   
  
The last time she had slow danced had been at the freshman dance of her high school. It had been awkward, stiff and uncomfortable – the exact opposite of dancing with Sherlock. His confident hands lead her so they were perfectly in synch with each other, their bodies unconsciously moving closer. As the song played on Molly started to forget her nerves, growing  accustomed to the pleasant warmth that spread where Sherlock’s hands touched her. Slightly intoxicated by the moment, she felt comfortable enough to slowly slide her hands on his back so she could rest her spinning head on his shoulder.  She knew she was completely lost, but for the first time ever she reveled in the sensation. All she needed was this moment to last.  
  
Unfortunately, all things end and so did this song. When the soft music was replaced by a loud beat, Sherlock pulled away a little. Molly lifted her head and her heart almost jumped out of her chest when she caught his expression. A smile that was so un-Sherlock it could have lit up the whole town was plastered on his face. Instead of dancing he stood completely still, only his right hand moved from Molly’s hip towards her chin. With one finger he lifted her chin to make her look up. Suddenly he paused, his eyes asking a question that only she could understand. In response, a faint smile appeared on her slips and her cheeks turned pink. ‘Yes.’  
  
 As he started to move towards her lips, the fuzziness in her brain turned into pure excitement. She was certain she going to have a heart attack.  And then his soft lips met hers. She caught a faint taste of nicotine and peppermint, as her head spun wildly. Before she could open her mouth he already pulled away, triumph and excitement playing around in his eyes. Molly had often wondered about being kissed like this. She had always thought of these kisses as a grand finale, a conclusion. Only now did she believe that it was actually just the beginning. She needed it to be a beginning.   


Later that night a melody was playing in Molly’s head,  synchronizing with the tiny raindrops that fell on the grey concrete of the schoolyard. The nonsensical symphony somehow captured perfectly how she felt while sitting on the stairs that lead up to the school’s front door, with a jacket hanging from her shoulders and the boy who it belonged to sitting beside her.

She glanced sideways, catching Sherlock looking out into the dark. Seeing his curls shimmer with tiny raindrops and his cheeks slightly pink from the cold, made her realize what the feeling of ‘tenderness’ truly meant.

“Thank you,” She said to him, softly brushing his shoulder with hers.  He looked up, his bright eyes focusing on her.  
“For what?” He asked in a tranquil voice.  Since they had left the crowded gymnasium, an unusual calm had settled over both of them.  
“For tonight. I had a lot of fun,” she answered, a soft smile playing on her lips.   
“I’m glad you did,” he replied. His hands had somehow found hers. Slowly, his thumb circled across her palm. Molly suddenly realized how many nerves she had in her palm.

“There is something I was wondering, though. How did you know?” She began, feeling confident that Sherlock would answer honestly. “I mean, when David didn’t show and I didn’t hear from him….”  
“Wait. You didn’t hear from him?” He interrupted her, suddenly his face was all hard lines and angles again.   
“No. He just didn’t show and then I tried to call him, but he didn’t answer his phone. Sherlock, why…”  
“He didn’t call you or contact you in any other way to tell you how to deal with him not coming?” Sherlock asked, urgency in his voice.  
“No… Why would he do that?” The melody stopped playing. She couldn’t – did not want to – believe that Sherlock would manage suddenly ruin all the trust she had finally placed in him.  
“Well, he and his friends were planning to…” Suddenly he fell silent mid-sentence, stopping himself. A realization dawned upon him. “Never mind.”  
He had managed to leave Molly completely confused once more. She raked her mind for some reason why Sherlock was so interested in David’s actions. And what were he and his friends planning….. Suddenly it hit her.

“Bonfire night.” Unconsciously the words slipped from her lips. She had overheard David and his friends talk, when she went up to ask him what color dress she should buy. He and his friends were planning to make a fire just behind the old sawmill on the outskirts of town, David had even agreed to work on it right before he would pick her up. Molly just hadn’t realized that it might be tonight.   
“What did you say?” Sherlock asked, his eyes wide with surprise.   
“Uhm…Bonfire night. It’s a tradition. And this year David and some of his friends were doing it. I just realized it might be tonight.” She replied, hoping that an answer would soothe him somewhat.   
“Do you know where they’re doing it?” There was an acuteness in his voice she didn’t understand.   
“Yeah, I think so.” Before she could say anything else, Sherlock pulled her up by her hand and started running towards his bike.

“Sherlock! Where are we going?!”  
“To see the bonfire. You need to show me the way,” he replied as he started to put a helmet on her head.  
“Why?!” Molly asked in desperation, as Sherlock got on the motorbike. _Why couldn't things just be normal with him?!  
_ “Because David is in a lot of trouble.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed!   
> Please please please let me know what you thought in the comments. Or if there are things you think I could improve. Or if there are things you really want to happen. Or if you just want to say hi. Comments are always appreciated very very much!


	12. Where there's smoke...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly and Sherlock leave the dance in a rush, because Sherlock is certain David is in danger. When they arrive at the bonfire things turn out to be even worse than expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, a new chapter! I'm sorry it took so long to update, but I was on holiday. But I'm back and ready to write a lot more.  
> I hope you enjoy. I think this chapter is a bit different from all that has gone before, so I hope you still like it.  
> Please let me know what you think in the comments! I always love hearing from you.
> 
> Enjoy!

“Turn left,” Molly instructed Sherlock as they flew through the dark streets.   
Once again her heart was racing, but this time it was because of Sherlock’s proximity or the speed they were going at.  The sense of excitement had been replaced by worry and fear. But mostly, confusion. As they turned into the street that led up to the sawmill, questions flooded her mind. _What is going on with David? Why did they have to go to the bonfire? Was he in danger?_

She had no time to answer them, though, because soon enough the mill came in sight. When they reached it, Molly could hear excited voices filling the cool night’s air. Sherlock hit the brakes and helped her off the bike with an almost automatic movement. For a split-second his eyes locked with hers. Molly could feel them burning into her, pleading her to trust him. To not be afraid as long as he was beside her. In response she swallowed once , then gave him the bravest look she could muster. Without further hesitation, his pale hand grabbed her shaking one and started pulling her towards the mill. They ran like shadows, her heels and his dress shoes soundlessly sinking into the wet grass.

The feverish talking growing louder as they swiftly moved around the old mill. Molly could the tension in her muscles, the icy air in her lungs and the nausea in her stomach. A stark contrast with Sherlock. It unsettled her to see him moving so smoothly through the dark, seeming perfectly at ease, even more than he did while dancing.   
When they had almost reached the back of the mill, Molly started to make out several tall shadows standing  in the field behind the large wooden structure. It became evident that they were the source of all the clamor. Some of the dark figures moved around wildly, gesturing exaggeratedly to their friends. Even Molly could understand that without certain liquids in their system people did not behave this way.

Molly was still moving forward – towards the buzzing crowd – when Sherlock suddenly stopped. Molly and Sherlock blended with the shadows of the saw mill, so they could observe the  boisterous figures without being spotted themselves.  
“We’re not going to wait any longer on that asshole! I want fire!” Molly recognized Bobby’s - one of David’s friends - voice. This meant she had been right about the location.    
“Hey! David may be an ass, but he’s still my friend. So watch your dumbass mouth!” She froze, realizing Sherlock had been correct. Something was going on with David. He had not shown up for the bonfire, just like he hadn’t shown up at her front door.   
  
Before she could consider what this meant, Molly received a painful squeeze in her hand. Sherlock. One boy from Bobby’s group had turned around and seemed to be gazing at the back of the mill, exactly where they stood. The harsh crushing of her delicate finger bones had been a warning sign. Very slowly, but deliberately, Sherlock started to lead her sideways. Towards a large shed – probably a storage place for the wood from the mill - that was only separated several feet from where the intoxicated group was standing. Close, but painting tall shadows, it was the perfect hiding spot.

When they stepped out of the shadows to reach their hide-out, Molly could almost feel her heart beat out of her chest. _What if they would see her? Would they be angry? Would they hurt of humiliate her? On the other hand, she sort of knew them. So why was Sherlock being so secretive?_ Luckily, the staring boy had turned around and was now laughing loudly with his friends.   
  
Without anyone noticing they reached the wooden storage. As soon as Molly and Sherlock crouched down behind it, she let out an anxious breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding. She felt safer now, less exposed. She got another adrenaline jolt soon after, though. Billy was moving towards the shed, several small planks of wood and a large bottle in his hand. Sherlock’s eyes went wide, as he tried to make clear to Molly to be very quiet. They could hear Billy put the planks down on the other side of the shed.  He had come to close for them to see, but when they heard some sort of liquid hit the wood they knew Billy was emptying his bottle on the planks.   
  
“Okay! Are you guys ready?” The boy who was clearly in charge asked the group.  
“Yeah!!” Loud cheers erupted.   
“Okay, who’s got the matches?”  When suddenly another boy walked over to their hiding place, Molly almost let out a loud yelp. They were going to put the shed on fire. The storage spot was not only a good hiding place, it was also an extremely flammable box, since it was filled to the brim with wood.  The entire supply of wood of the mill would be burned. This wasn’t just going to be a bonfire. The whole wood-working company would turn to ashes, if their storage would go up in flames.   
  
She was about to warn Sherlock, but before she could even attempt to make some sort of signal, he was already holding a finger in front of her mouth. His eyes wide, he was signaling her to listen. Molly held her breath, trying to obtain complete motionless – which was hard when she knew that the structure that was a hair’s breath away would light up in flames any second. Yet, she heard it. A repetitive banging. Coming from inside the shed. Her eyes immediately met Sherlock’s and they both knew. Someone was in there and that someone was going to be swallowed by flames any moment.

Immediately she and Sherlock were on their feet. But when Molly was about to move into the light, Sherlock suddenly held her back with his arm.  His mouth worded the word ‘Go’, as his hand motioned towards the trees left of the mill. He wanted her to leave. In response, Molly could feel her nervousness turn into determination to rescue whoever was trapped in the wooden storage. There was no way she was going to run and hide.   
“Okay! Ready? Let’s see some fire!” The moment Billy struck the match and bend down to alight the first plank of wood, Molly kicked of her heels and pushed out from behind Sherlock.   
“STOP!” Her voice came out shrill and desperate, while she exposed herself to David and his friends.  She was too focused on the flames that were already surrounding the bottom of the shed, to notice their shocked expressions.   
“Molly!” Sherlock called out, chasing after her, as she ran straight into the fire.

“What the hell?! Sherlock?!” Billy called out, violence in his voice. “What do you think you’re doing? Who’s she?”  
Billy’s frantic words did not stop Molly from continuing on her rescue mission. She had reached the shed and had begun to remove the first planks  
“There’s…There’s someone in there!!” She replied, her voice high and hoarse. She felt her hands sting from the fire and her eyes had started to tear up from the smoke. Still she did not stop, because she could still hear the banging inside the shed.  
  
When she had almost freed the door of the shed, suddenly  arms circled around her waist. She was pulled backwards harshly, away from the starting fire.   
“What do think you’re doing?! Crazy bitch!” Billy’s words sounded loudly in her ear, as she flung around her arms and legs violently. She struggled desperately to escape, tears forming in her eyes.   
Despite her efforts, Billy kept on pulling her backwards. She was about to try to kick his shins, when he suddenly released her. Letting her fall onto the cold ground with a hard smack.   
  
Molly could feel her head throb, as she struggled to get up. Regaining her balance, she immediately saw why Billy had let her go. Her breathing stopped. A few feet away, in the wet grass, lay David. A rope tied his hand and feet together and his face was covered in smoke and bruises. Sherlock was standing over him. His hair a dark explosion, as he struggled to catch his breath. While she had been captured, Sherlock had saved the person that was about to be roasted. And that person was David.   
  
Molly felt herself get sick, her knees starting to shake. _How had she ended up here?_  
She did not have long to dwell on her distress, because Billy soon finished untying the ropes that bound his friend. Standing only a few steps away from Sherlock he roared; “This was you! Wasn’t it?! You, freak!” A semi-circle of stunned onlookers had formed around the two boys and David, who still wasn’t able to get up.   
“I just pulled David out of the fire. So, why on earth would I….” Sherlock began to reply. His voice cool and controlled, as if he had not just risked his life to save a boy he loathed.   
“Yes, you did! You overheard us! And you wanted to get back on us, didn’t you?! Freaking psycho!” Billy’s words were pure violence. Molly felt a shiver run down her spine, as she realized that this boy would probably not only  use words to make his accusations known. The complete idiocy of suspecting Sherlock, only attested to what complete mayhem his anger could provoke.   
“Listen, I just saved him so…” The fact that the smooth undertone had left Sherlock’s voice made Molly even more uncomfortable.   
  
“And what did she have to do with it, huh? Was she in it with you?!” Molly froze. As Billy flung his hand in her direction, she could feel his rage being directed to her. All his friends’ eyes were suddenly trained on her.   
“Off course she wasn’t,” Sherlock replied indignantly. “Come on, she could never have figured out what you were planning to do. Besides, she’d never do something like that to David. To anyone. She cries about hurt puppies.”  
As soon as she the words left his mouth, Molly felt even more nauseous. She tried to tell herself that Sherlock was just talking about her in this way to free her of the blame, but she could still feel a lump form in her throat.   
  
“Don’t lie to me. I’ve seen you two, she’d probably do whatever you tell her.” Billy was still adamant on putting his anger on the both of them , because on person just wasn’t enough for all the rage he held inside him.   
“And why would I want that?” Sherlock scoffed in reply. “Why would I want to have anything to do with her? She’s pathetic. I just took pity for her at the dance and then she suddenly had to follow me here and play the hero. Think of me what you want, but don’t ever believe I have anything with this crazy girl.”   
Molly could feel herself begin to shake in anger and disappointment. The only thing that kept her standing was the little voice in her head that told her ‘He’s protecting you.’   
“So what is she still doing here?”  Came as Billy’s only reply.  
“I think she should leave. Molly, just get the hell out of here.” Sherlock addressed her, looking straight into her eyes, his voice dripping with venom. Molly was almost certain that nobody could be pretending while sounding so convincing. Still, she had seen him pretend before.

So, Molly did just as she was told. Without a reply she slowly started to walk off into the dark night. Her knees shook with uncertainty. Uncertainty about what exactly had happened to David. Uncertainty about Billy’s accusation. Uncertainty about how Sherlock had known about David. But mostly, uncertainty about Sherlock’s words. They were either the most crushing insults she would ever receive or the biggest declaration of care and love she had ever gotten. He had either let her fall or he had taken the fall for her. As the mill started to disappear behind her, leaving Sherlock to deal with the angry and intoxicated group of boys himself, Molly had only one thought that kept her from breaking down. It was the memory of Sherlock’s eyes as he had lifted her of the motorcycle. Right before they walked into the horrors of the night together, they had requested from her ‘Trust me.’ And maybe, for once, she would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you think?   
> Please let me know! I love receiving comments and hearing your opinions.


	13. Brainteasers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is trying to figure out who tried to get David killed, but he can't seem to concentrate. Meanwhile, Molly has officially become a loner. Unfortunately, that's not her only concern. When Sherlock suddenly returns to school, will things get any better?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new chapter, here it is!   
> This is just a really fun and not too serious one. I thought that after so much angst and drama, we should at least have some good things happening as well.   
> Please let me know what you think in the comments, feedback is always greatly appreciated. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!  
> Big kisses,  
> Sabine

It had been three days. Three days without going to school, sleeping or eating and he still hadn’t figured it out.   
Sherlock let out an exasperated breath. He had given up on staring at his bedroom wall since yesterday evening. Right now he was lying on his bed, his eyes trained on the empty ceiling.   
He didn’t even bother entering his mind palace. He had repeated the facts so many times that the words almost lost their meaning, he certainly didn’t need help remembering. And there was also still a girl, a very confused and lonely one at the moment, wandering the halls somewhere in there. Sherlock trained his eyes on a moist spot in the white cracking paint, forcing himself to focus.   
The line that he had stood in that faithful day in the supermarket appeared in front of his eyes. One of them had also overheard David and his friends and had decided they needed to be stopped. Just like the O’Malleys and Phil had to be stopped. The man he had been searching for all that time, had been right in front of his eyes and he hadn’t even noticed.   
  
In his mind Sherlock walked past the formation of impatient shoppers. In the front, packing up his groceries, stood a scruffy-looking elderly man. _Sketchy, but had a hernia in his back. So, not him._ Behind him stood a group of three teenage girls, loading up several bottles of booze  while the male cashier eyed them suspiciously. They were also chatting frantically in between excited fits of giggles. _Couldn’t have overheard._  Sherlock continued to analyze several other costumers, but ended up more annoyed than he started.  None of them were even remotely suspicious.

When he once again came up with nothing, his mind started to wonder to Molly. Stupid mind. After he had told her to leave on Friday night, he and Billy had almost gotten into a brutal fight. Luckily, David had finally succeeded in standing up and told Billy to back off. Maybe he wasn’t such a big asshole after all. Or maybe he just wanted Billy to use his energy to bring him to a doctor, instead of beating up Sherlock. Either way, with this turn of events Molly was the one to leave the mill with the most injuries.

Sherlock still felt bad about it. Or at least, he felt this strange pressure in his chest all the time and had decided it was the feeling of guilt. (It could also have been his lungs giving up on him.) It was in moment like this, lying on his bed, experiencing these sensations for the first time, that he felt terrifyingly clueless. He wanted to make sure she was okay, that she had known it had all been an act. That she wouldn’t stop letting him, letting him try to be a decent person (even though he failed miserably) and letting him kiss those pink lips ones more. God, those lips. Yet, he had no clue how to go about these things. Other people had years of practice apologizing and being all gooey-eyed, but he was just starting to grasp what the concept of apologizing meant or why it was even necessary. So, he just sighed and stared at that moist spot some more. Gross.

* * *

 

Molly turned up the volume of her iPod even more, hoping it would drown out her screaming discomfort. Even though it was quite cold, she was having lunch outside. Alone. Ever since the dance Sally hadn’t spoken to her. Unfortunately, as a social being Sally wasn’t just a person, she was the collective mind of an entire group. So if Sally didn’t speak to you, no one spoke to you. Not even Meena.   
  
Molly packed up her sandwich again, having lost all appetite. The upbeat piano and rhythmic bop-bop-bop coming from her pink headphones didn’t have the desired effect. She had hoped that music that made your feet tap along with the beat, would have made her mind stop running to the places that made her stomach twist even more. Having no one to talk to most of the day, gave her brains a lot of time to especially explore these painful places. In the last two hours alone, she had come up with 33 theories about what exactly was going on between her and Sherlock. _Was this his way of proving his undying affection? Did he think his love was unrequited? Was there a family feud that made it impossible for him to love her?_ Stupid brain.   
Annoyingly, her heart wasn’t cooperating either.  It kept telling her to have hope. To believe that Sherlock had meant well and he would come back to explain he did everything to protect her. Also, at random moments, like in her mathematics class (in which Sally also didn’t sit beside her anymore), it would suddenly start to beat really fast.  As if it somehow relived her kiss with Sherlock once more. Or the feeling of his hands on her hips. Or her hand in his. Aaargh.

Maybe she should just be cool and aloof, spending her lunch breaks listening to obscure punk rock and come to school every morning dressed from head-to-toe in black.  That’s what Molly thought while she ran her hand across the chipping paint of the bench. A girl like that wouldn’t care about whether Meena or Sally ignored her or not. And Sherlock would just be another boy on her long list of casual romances. She would ooze confidence and scoff at matters of the heart with cynical carelessness. She would feel like Sherlock. But then Molly remembered that Sherlock wasn’t actually that way – he just tried really hard to act like it. Also, she didn’t own any black clothes.

 

“Molly!” Upon hearing her name Molly almost jumped. While bending over to unlock her bike after a long day of more Sally-ignoring and heart-thumping, she had been listening to her overly happy music. Hearing her name suddenly ring through the bips and bops came as an unexpected surprise.   
Slowly she turned to see where the voice had come from. Standing there, in the long shadows that the school walls created, was Sherlock. Molly could feel the butterflies in her stomach burst into flight. He stood tall en quiet like a statue, even more so than usual. He still made her knees weak, though.  
“Sherlock, hi,” Molly greeted politely as she approached him. “Where have you been?”  
“Molly, listen,” He began, his eyebrows pulling together in a serious expression. She gave a small nod, although listening was quite hard when he had decided to stand so close to her. “About Friday night, you understood that was all an act, right?”  
“Off course,” She replied calmly, but secretly she felt a massive weight lift of her chest.   
“So, I didn’t mean it when I said you were pathetic, or crazy, or I took pity for you,” He replied, his tense expression easing a little. “Although, you probably would cry about hurt puppi-“  
“Sherlock!” With voice that didn’t even sound like her own, Molly suddenly interrupted him. He also seemed surprised by this, his mouth remaining open mid-speech.  
  
“Umm… Anyways, what I’m trying to say is: I – I’m… I’m sorry. For everything.” His voice shook a little, while he apologized in a manner that seemed almost rehearsed.   
 A wide smile spread across Molly’s lips as she replied; “I forgive you, _on one condition:_ Stop pretending. I’m not stupid, Sherlock. I _know_ you’re in fact a really great guy. And you do care. So stop acting, at least around me.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth Molly’s cheeks turned bright red. Where did all these big words come from? Was there some other confident Molly living inside of her, that suddenly had decided to come out? And why, now?   
Squirming in discomfort, Molly looked away. To the ground. Because with her back turned towards the wall and Sherlock in front of her, it was pretty hard avoiding looking at him. It soon became clear that he was surprised by these words as well, because an awkward silence fell between them.    
Being certain that it couldn’t get more embarrassing for either of them, she dared to ask the question that had been on her mind since she had seen him:   
“Umm… so… does this mean we are-“  
  
This time she didn’t see it coming. Before she could finish her question, Sherlock had her pressed up against the wall. One hand on her waist and the other cupping her chin. Before she could fully process what was happening, his lips met hers. This time he wasn’t afraid to use his tongue. In an unconscious response, Molly’s hands went up to his head, softly pulling on those thick black curls. Eventually Sherlock pulled away, his breath coming out hard and ragged. His eyes were wide, as his hand travelled from her waist towards her hips. Molly was almost ready to step away, when suddenly he pressed her into the wall even harder. His lips found her neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses. She felt kind of bad and slightly embarrassed about doing this on school grounds. This was definitely too much PDA. Yet, when his lips touched the soft spot right behind her ear, the only thing she could think of was; _So this is a definite ‘yes’._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it!   
> Please let me know what you think in the comments.
> 
> XOXO  
> Sabine


	14. Acing it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly and Sherlock's paper is graded, but Mr. Abott has a special request that eventually leads Molly to Sherlock's front door. What is supposed to be just a quick visit turns into quite an interesting afternoon and it turns out Molly's deduction skills might not be so bad at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter for you :)   
> I'm not really sure what to think of this one. As the end of the story is nearing, I feel like a lot of loose ends have to come together, yet I hate to write chapters in which nothing happens. Well whatever, I hope you guys still like it. 
> 
> I would also like to point out that this would have been finished a lot sooner if it weren't for Benedict Cumberbatches face and Patrrick Stump's voice. Thank you for ruining my life and my productivity. (Also, damn you Tumblr)
> 
> Last but not least, I want to thank all the sweet people who left comments and kudos and all that jazz. You guys keep me excited to write, even when life decides to suck. So thank you very much!
> 
> I hope you enjoy and please let me know in the comments what you think! :D

“Molly, could you wait a second? I’d like to talk to you for a minute.” Molly heard Mr. Abott’s voice call out behind her, as she tried to exit the classroom. It had been another Sherlock-less chemistry lessons (a Sherlock-less day actually) and that had made her slightly agitated.   
“Sure,” She replied as she turned around to face her teacher. She wondered what he could possibly have to discuss with her, chemistry was one of her best subjects. ‘At least he doesn’t look angry’, she thought. A content smile was plastered on his bespectacled face.   
“Please, sit.” He instructed her and pointed to a chair in front of his desk. Hesitantly Molly did as she was told, while Mr. Abott bend down to retrieve something out of that black bag of his.   
  
“Molly,” He began, putting down a stack of printed papers in front of him. She immediately recognized it as _the_ report. This was going to be interesting. “I just finished grading your report on salts and precipitation reactions and I must say I was pleasantly surprised. This is excellent. So, I would like to congratulate you miss Hooper, because you just got an A+.” He smiled triumphantly, as if he had just awarded her with an Olympic medal and simultaneously won one himself.   
“Thank you, sir.” Molly replied relieved and somewhat surprised. She had looked into the work Sherlock had done, but hadn’t realized it was that good. Probably because things other than his work related to that boy  had occupied her mind at the time.   
“Really, you can be proud of yourself. But that’s not the only reason I wanted to talk to you,” his smile slowly fell into a serious frown. “I have to ask: Was this work really done by you _and_ Sherlock Holmes?”  
 _Ow. Crap._ _Off course he would never believe they had worked together._   _How was she ever going to explain this?!  
_ “Well… Sherlock and I both...uh…divided the tasks between us and we both did our part. He and I…We worked together quite well, actually.” Her cheeks were glowing, as the words came out as a stuttering mess. She was a bad liar and was painfully aware of it.   
  
“That’s what I thought I already. I just wanted to be sure,” He replied, his eyes glowing behind the thick glasses. _What?!_ “I mean, I don’t expect you to write a sentence like ‘In an unsurprising turn of events the liquid in tube 3 turns white. There is an explanation for why this happens, but the text books doesn’t cover it and therefore it is not deemed as necessary knowledge for this report.’ “ Mr. Abott let out a small laugh, upon hearing his own hilarious recitation. Although slightly uncomfortable, Molly couldn’t help but smile a little as well. That was definitely Sherlock.   
“Anyway, Miss Hooper. The point I’m trying to make is that I have never seen Sherlock actually deliver work like this. He’s a brilliant boy, no doubt, but until he worked together with you he never bothered to do anything in my class. Or any class, for that matter. And right now he’s skipping class more than ever. I worry about him. He’s incredibly talented, you know, probably has a bigger brain than the average PhD student. Yet, he’s throwing all that away.  That’s why I want to ask you, Molly, since you are the only person who he seems to like somewhat;  could you tell him about his good results and maybe let him know that going to school is still quite a good idea? You don’t have to….I just….just don’t know what else to do with this boy.”   
It was then that Molly realized she had been completely wrong about Mr. Abott. He wasn’t just some kind of wacko chemistry enthusiast, he knew extremely well what was up. And he really seemed to care. Something that was rare when it came to Sherlock.   
“I understand, sir. And I will.” She replied, before leaving the classroom. A+ in hand.   


***********

It had seemed like good idea when she looked up his address in the list she had received from school, but now she wasn’t so certain anymore. As she walked up to the dark green front door, she almost turned around three times. Still, there was a little nagging voice inside her head that told her to keep going. That tiny voice was one filled with frustration and annoyance, telling her that you can’t just kiss people and then disappear again. It was simply against the unspoken kisser-kissee agreement. The same agreement that made Molly believe that this ‘thing’ with Sherlock was an actual ‘thing’.   
  
So, with their chemistry report in her backpack and loudly beating heart in her chest, Molly rang the tiny white doorbell. Triiiiiiing. Before she could change her mind and try to run off again, a 40-something woman swung open the door.   
“Good afternoon, dear.” She greeted Molly with a warm smile. Although her manner was friendly all around, Molly still felt slightly intimidated. She was the kind of woman who had a presence that was bigger than her body.   
“Hello. Ms. Holmes, is it? I’m Molly. I’m here for Sherlock. I got this report we did together and I need to give it to him, but he wasn’t at school, so I thought I would come by.” Molly felt relieved upon hearing her own voice, as her half-truth rolled out of her mouth quite smoothly. Maybe confident Molly hadn’t completely left her.   
“Molly! Please come in, dear. How very nice too meet you. Though you can call me Violet.” Sherlock’s mother told Molly overexcitedly as she ushered her inside the house.   
  
“Here, let me take your coat. Sherlock is upstairs, it’s the first door to the right.” Molly got the strange feeling that Ms. Holmes – Violet – somehow believed she was a wonder of the World and a helpless puppy at the same time.   
“SHERLOCK! YOU GOT COMPANY!” Ms. Holmes told her son in a less friendly voice, as Molly started to climb the stairs.

Sherlock’s door swung open before Molly could try for the door handle. A head covered in black curls peeking out. He wore an agitated expression, as if he was about to shout a rude retort to his mother. Upon realizing Molly was standing in front of his door, his eyes grew wide. For a split-second he seemed taken aback, before recovering his usual cool demeanor.   
  
“Molly. Didn’t expect you,” he told her in his business-as-usual-voice, while he opened up his door to let her into his room.   
“Hi, Sherlock.” Molly told him in an upbeat voice, trying not to show her nervousness. _When you kiss someone passionately things  shouldn’t be this awkward with them, right? Or maybe they were because of that kiss…  
_ As they both stepped inside, Molly was momentarily shocked. His room was a battlefield of domestic debris. The furniture – or the floor for that matter – was barely recognizable because every spot was completely covered with some kind of clutter. From crumbled note paper to slowly rotting socks nothing was save, except for a neatly polished violin that lay on his desk.   
__  
While maneuvering across the mayhem that was Sherlock’s floor, Molly continued; “Mr. Abott graded our report. We got an A+. He asked if I could give it you, since you weren’t at school…”  
“Did he also ask you if you could ask me to stop skipping his class?” He interrupted her, one eyebrow raised.  
“Yeah. How did you…”  
“That man has been on my back since I started school. He secretly thinks I’m his long-lost son. He thinks I’m just like him; Brilliant, slightly obsessed with Chemistry, underdeveloped social skills, unable to make a good first impression….. Wait. Maybe he sort of has a point.” Sherlock finished with the corners of his mouth twitching.  
Molly’s mouth fell open. “Sherlock, did you just…..”  
“Shhh. Don’t let them know. They might find out I don’t just use my wit to insult others,” he told her with mock concern. This made Molly burst out into a nervous fit of giggles. Still smiling widely Sherlock sat down on his bed and pulled her down with him. Seeing him like this was bizarre, but she say couldn’t she didn’t like it.

Sitting there on his bed, she could feel his delicate fingers slide across her back. Tingles shot through her spine. Only now did she realize that by sitting down here she had placed herself in the middle of a danger zone.   
Suddenly his mouth was near her ear and he asked in deep voice; “That chemistry assignment wasn’t the only reason you came over, now was it?”  
“You’re right. It isn’t,” she told him resolutely, grabbing his hand from her back and holding it in front of her. “You never told me what ‘this’ is. I mean, what do we tell other people?” _God that sounded lame. And clingy.  
_ “I thought I was being rather clear, actually.” His other hand was on her leg now.   
“So I can call you my boyfriend then?” Upon hearing these excited words coming out of Molly’s mouth, Sherlock wrinkled his nose. As if the statement itself disgusted him.   
“I suppose so. Although I don’t see why that is necessary in any way.”   
“Because _boyfriends_ don’t disappear for days without a word.” _There. She had said it._  
“I was busy,” he replied and immediately Molly shot him a disapproving look. He continued in a lighter tone; “But I think I  can make it up to you.”  
Slowly his hand travelled from her leg to her waist and he  pushed her backwards onto the bed. With her back on the mattress, Sherlock put down both of his hands on the side of her head to lean over her. With a devious half-smile on his face, he started to close the distance between their lips. As she felt her pulse shoot up, Molly decided she was satisfied with this response. Still, right before their lips touched she whispered; “Don’t you disappear again, or I’ll never stop calling you my boyfriend.”

**********

“What’s that?” Molly asked Sherlock while gesturing to the wall opposite of her. She was sitting on his desk sipping a cup of tea. They had decided to both move to a less high-risk location after Ms. Holmes almost caught them having a very ‘cosy’ moment, when she had walked in to ask Molly if she wanted to stay for dinner. Although it had been more like insisting with a question mark after each sentence instead of actually asking.   
  
“Information. Clues. It helps me connect everything,” he replied from his office chair. Molly was still surprised by how easily he could change back to his serious and cool voice. Her blush hadn’t left her cheeks yet.  
“So, do you know who put David in that shed yet?” She asked, hopping of the desk to take a closer look at the strange collage on the wall. “And what do sleeping pills have to with it? And…wait… Is that Phil’s name?”  
“Yes, that’s him. The  person who cut the brakes on Phil’s bike is the same as the one who tried to get David killed.” Molly suddenly  felt a shiver run down her spine. Only now did she realize that it was in fact strange that two of her friends had gotten into serious accidents in the short time she had been in town.   
“Wait. So you’re saying someone is getting these innocent kids in danger? And what do dogs and sleeping pills have to do with this?”  
  
“You’re seriously interested?” Sherlock asked, his eyes big and innocent as they turned to her.   
“Off course I am. Something very strange is happening. People might actually be in danger and you seem to be the only so far who knows what’s going on, so please explain.”  
“Alright then,” He began with a sigh trying to sound bored, but Molly could easily spot a little twinkle in his eyes that told her he had been waiting for this moment. “Our neighbors used to have dogs that would bark every night, which quietly annoyed the whole neighborhood for years. Then one day someone feeds them pesticides and they die. Not much later Mr. O’Malley, a nice old man who also just happens to illegally sell alcohol, cigarettes and drugs to the neighborhood kids, is killed because his sleeping pills are tampered with. A tragic loss, I might add.  One night, not long after that,  Philip  and some of his friends drink a little too much and end up wrecking a storage shed of a farmer just down the road of the supermarket. The next day the brakes on his bike are cut and he _luckily_ only ends up with broken bones and internal bleeding. And last but not least, we have ‘bonfire night’. Now, you were there and probably also understood that what they were planning today wasn’t strictly legal. So, like all those other events, this can’t go unpunished, thus David ends up nearly being burned alive.”  
  
Molly had completely forgotten how to even formulate a response. Everything Sherlock had just told her was a complete surprise. It was like she had been seeing fuzzy all this time and now someone had given her glasses, by laying all the facts in front of her. Only minutes ago she had believed that all she had been through with Sherlock had already been too much excitement for this small town, now she realized it had just been the tip of the iceberg.  
  
“So, there is someone out there who is playing policemen. Someone with resources _and_ connections.  Somehow this person knew what people had done or were about to do and had the tools to stop or punish them,” Sherlock interrupted Molly’s train of thought by continuing in his facts-and-figures-voice, more speaking to himself than to Molly at this point.  
“So you’re saying that the supermarket manager is trying to keep us all in check?” Molly blurted, before she could even realize what she was saying.   
“No, off course….Wait. What did you say?” Sherlock’s eyes suddenly grew wide.  
“I was asking if you were accusing Rob Wilson of trying to harm all these people? You know, the supermarket manager. Friend of Phil’s dad. I don’t think he would ever do something like this, but I thought that was where you were going with your whole….”  
Suddenly Sherlock was out of the chair and on his feet. His eyes were even wider than before and his mouth formed a perfect O.   
“Molly, that’s it! You’re brilliant!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!   
> Please let me know what you think by leaving a comment!   
> I just love hearing from all the cool people who read this :)


	15. Mystery Shopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All seems to be going well between Molly and Sherlock, except for the fact that the smalltown-killer is still walking around freely. When Sherlock has a shocking realization, he wastes no more time to straight-up confront his strange suspect. Unfortunately, things don't exactly go as planned...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, guys! I've been quite busy with other things. (Meh :( )  
> But anyways, here's a new chapter. I hope it explains some things and is still exciting to read.   
> Thanks for all the comments you guys left, I always appreciate it very much.
> 
> Enjoy reading!! :D

One thing that Molly learned in the week that followed her visit to Sherlock was that nothing travels quite as fast through a small town as good gossip. So within three days not only everybody at school, but the whole town knew about her relationship with Sherlock. She had officially gone from ‘the new girl’ to ‘Sherlock Holmes’ girlfriend’, a title that was often whispered in a disapproving tone.   
  
Surprisingly, Molly didn’t care. To be frank, she didn’t care about much else except the butterflies in her stomach these days. Things were just too great to waste time on worrying. Ever since Molly had stopped by Sherlock’s house and he had given her the permission to let her call him her boyfriend (although reluctantly), he had really started to live up to this new title. Even when Molly had basically given him the most important clue in the very strange mystery of this small town, he decided to spend his time at school instead of staring at his bedroom wall. (Still, she also knew this meant he was up to something). She no longer had to eat her lunch alone, even though her friends were still ignoring her, and all of the sudden someone else was carrying her books.  It wasn’t like in her fantasies – there were plenty of awkward situations, overly harsh remarks and klutzy attempts at displaying affection – but she still found herself smiling broadly whenever she saw his dark curls.  It also helped that she had quickly learned that Sherlock’s words would never contain much tenderness, but his silent actions screamed of devotion and fondness.

“Well, this one time there was this little bird with a broken leg and my mum didn’t want me to keep it to take care for. So I decided to keep it in this big box in my room and was really secretive about it,” Molly recounted a story about her 10-year old mischievousness to Sherlock. They were having lunch outside, since the beginning of March had brought a sudden redundancy of sunshine.   
  
“And you seriously thought your parents wouldn’t notice? A little immature, don’t you think?” Sherlock asked her, one eyebrow raised. The both were sitting on the bench of one of the picnic tables, leaning their backs on the edge of the table. Although Sherlock sounded somewhat crude, he tenderly played with her fingers.  
“I was ten!” Molly  exclaimed in mock anger. Sherlock didn’t reply, he suddenly seemed distracted by something near the cafeteria door.  Molly turned to see what it was that had captured his attention. Stepping out into the schoolyard, moving towards them, were Sally and her friends. This was not her usual pack though. Meena wasn’t with them and two senior boys had joined her. David and  Billy.   
While Molly still had her eyes trained on them as they moved closer, Sherlock suddenly grabbed her arm and told her in an urgent voice; “Kiss me.”  
“Wh-What?” She immediately turned around. “Sh-Sherl..”  
Before she could protest any more, his hand was on the back of her neck and he brought her lips op to his. When they met it was all heartbeats, hot hands and tiny fingers intertwined with dark curls. They were their own universe, yet they could feel everyone looking in. They were the couple  you see on movie screens. This made Molly’s cheeks even hotter, but only motivated Sherlock to show off even more. And showing off he did, the only evidence needed was Sally’s dropped jaw and the wide of David’s eyes.

********

_Squeek-squeek-squeek_ the floorboards went, as Sherlock paced them up and down once more. He needed to come up with a solid plan, but he also needed to act quickly. Too much time had already been wasted. He kept telling himself that he hadn’t acted right away because he needed to plan strategically  if he wanted to actually catch Rob Wilson, but there was no denying that there had also been another distraction.

While he tried to come up with how exactly he was going to get a testimonial from Rob, he marveled once more at Molly’s quick deduction. Now that he knew, it was the most obvious thing in the world. The pesticides that killed the dogs were the ones they sold at the supermarket and Sherlock knew Rob lived in the neighborhood. The sleeping pills that were tampered with, were sold at the drug counter in the supermarket. A counter Rob often stood behind. Also, he off course knew where the kids got their booze – since he kept his employees very strict on ID-ing. Phil’s bike was an obvious one. The shed was just down the road of the store, from Phil’s parents he knew their son hadn’t come home until late and then it was just a matter of cutting the brakes while making a friendly visit to Phil’s father. Bonfire night was simply a dead give-away. He had overheard David’s not-so-quiet friends and on the afternoon before the fire – while David was preparing – he had snuck up on him and had locked him up in the shed. He had even tied him up with the same kind of robe the boys used for their fire. The kind they sold at the local supermarket. ‘How could I have missed all of this?’ Sherlock wondered, still annoyed over his own blindness.

Sherlock decided that maybe he should just go out for a while, just to clear his head. He wasn’t certain where this sudden desire for fresh air came from, he never had had it before, but he couldn’t shake it off. So he started to make his way downstairs. When he reached the ground floor hallway, he proceeded to put on his coat. It was when he was about to step out of the door that Sherlock noticed something was missing.   
  
Seeing it was cloudy outside, he had reached to the top of the coatrack to grab the ugly deerstalker hat, but it wasn’t there. Feeling slightly unsettled, he tried to remember when he had seen it last. In an instant he was send back to the night of the bonfire. In the action of trying to save David from getting roasted, his hat had fallen of his head. After just barely escaping a brutal fight with Billy, he had left as soon as he could. Leaving his deerstalker on the wet grass. Leaving it to mark the scene of the crime with his signature.   
  
It then hit him like lightning. The time of elaborate planning was over. He needed to act quickly. He was leaving, but not for a relaxing stroll, but a visit to the supermarket. One that didn’t involve a shopping list.

**********

Sherlock Holmes entered the relatively quiet store with confident footsteps. He immediately aimed for the pharmacy counter. Behind it stood a 40-something man dressed in the store’s uniform. The man’s slightly graying hair framed his round face that held a pair of kind green eyes. As he helped an elderly woman, his with teeth formed a friendly smile. He was the epitome of ‘the nice guy’. Rob Wilson.   
  
When Sherlock reached the pharmacy counter, he saw that he actually had to wait in line to meet his suspect. ‘How ironic,’ he thought, while wiggling his fingers in an annoyed manner. Yet, he didn’t cut and waited patiently until the young mother in front of him got her painkillers. When she was finally satisfied with her medicine, she stepped aside so that Rob and Sherlock were only separated by the small blue-painted counter.   
  
Before Rob could even begin to ask him anything, Sherlock had already given him a once-over and had announced coolly; “I came to retrieve my hat, I think you might have it.”  
Rob’s green eyes went wide with shock and surprise, but soon after a look of fierce determination filled them. Yet, Sherlock wasn’t fooled completely. He could see drops of sweat forming on his forehead.   
“Mitch! Take over the counter for a while, would you? I got some business to take care of,” Rob commanded a young boy wearing a supermarket uniform, stopping him in the middle of stocking shelves.   
Then he turned to Sherlock and told him in a low voice that often came with threats; “Follow me to my office. We have to settle a few things.”

Obediently Sherlock followed the potential murderer to his little secluded space. His footsteps sounding light on the white tiles, as If he was just browsing the cereal aisle. All around them the costumers buzzed on noisily, not aware of the confrontation that was about to ensue behind closed doors.   
  
Rob stopped in front of a white door in the back of the store. Opening it up, a small grey office revealed itself. Instead of entering directly, Rob held the door for Sherlock and waited to enter until he had stepped inside. When the door fell close behind the two of them, Sherlock immediately realized that he had put himself in a vulnerable position. One Rob wasn’t afraid to take advantage of. Before Sherlock saw it coming, Rob grabbed him by the shoulders and slammed him into the wall. One of his large hand encircled his neck, slowly closing off his trachea.   
  
“You little shit. What’d you think coming here, huh? Asking for your stupid hat. Now I know it’s you who’s been stopping me. Not very clever of you, _Sherlock Holmes._ ” He told Sherlock  with violence raging in his voice. His eyes were wide and a vein stood out on his forehead. The nice guy had turned into the killer.   
“I…came… to… tell you something.” Sherlock struggled to tell Rob,  quickly devising a new plan because (as much as he hated to admit it) he had stumbled upon certain unexpected obstacles. With his legs he tried to kick his captor’s shins, still attempting to escape.   
“And what’s that, huh?! That you decided to play a white knight? Saving all your little friends? Why don’t you get that they don’t deserve to be saved?!” Rob spit in Sherlock’s face, squeezing his throat even harder.  
“I know…about….about something….something the kids from school are…are planning to do,” Sherlock tried to make himself clear, while falling short of breath.   
Yet his little lie seemed to have the desired effect, because Rob slowly released his throat and put him down again.   
“Sit. Tell me what this is all about,” Rob commandeered as he pulled out a chair in front of the white desk and sat down on the one opposite of it. A certain cool had come over him.  
  
Sherlock quickly did as he was told, slowly retrieving some control of the situation but not wanting to take risks.  When he finally sat, he began; “Well, the  last week of march the seniors at school have exams. When they’re finished everyone wants to throw a party. But this year they have decided that they’re going to do things a bit differently. You know the abandoned mansion on the West hill? It recently got sold, but no-one is living there yet, because it has to be renovated first. Well, the seniors decided that  it would serve as an excellent party-location.” The lie slipped smoothly from Sherlock’s tongue. _Yes, there would be exams. Yes, there probably would be a party. But not at the ‘haunted mansion’._  
  
“Interesting, indeed. All in it just for the chase, aren’t you?  I think I’ll let you get away, because of this one. Yet, remember Sherlock that if this turns out to be a lie, I will make sure you regret it.” Rob spoke slowly, venom clearly present in his voice and his eyebrows turned up in an arrogant manner. Sherlock realized Mr. Wilson had many faces. Very few people, could go from ‘murderous brute’ to  ‘cunning slayer’ so easily.   
“I like to think of myself as someone who has nothing to lose. Consider it one of my great advantages, actually. So it would be quite interesting to see you try.” Sherlock’s sly arrogance had returned to him, as soon as he knew that he had won this round.   
“Oh, it seems the lies have started already. Because I know that there is always something we care about. And in your case it’s a very naïve and sweet little girl who always helps her mother with the groceries. Good thing it just so happens that Diana Hooper and I are quite good friends.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed!  
> Please let me know what you think in the comments below. I love hearing from you.


	16. A Walk in the Park

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only after Sherlock manages to crack the mystery, he realizes how blind he has been. Realizing what really matters to him and having it being threatened, makes him decide to take some radical actions. Actions that will have some serious consequences and not just for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, a new chapter!  
> Sorry, it's been so long but I have exams at the moment so that leaves very little time to write. And also makes me kind of annoyed and tired, which makes my writing super melodramatic. *Can I get a sad violin?*  
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy.   
> Also, please don't panic or freak out. There will always be another chapter, in which things are explained and other 'things' will happen.....
> 
> Enjoy!

As soon as the final bell rang, announcing the end of another dreary school day, Molly left the classroom to see if Sherlock was already standing outside. It went like this almost every day. At exactly 3 o’clock he would be outside the classroom where she had her last lesson of that day. Most of the time he would pretend as if he just had to walk by it on his way to some other important destination, but Molly knew that was never the case. So when there was no one waiting in the hall for her after Biology, Molly couldn’t help but feel disappointed and slightly confused. Yet, deep down she had been afraid this would happen. Sherlock had been acting distant and _off_ all day.   
  
Deciding that waiting would be useless – if Sherlock wanted to be on time, he was – Molly started to exit the school building on her own. When she reached the side of the school where she had  parked her bike, she was met with a great surprise. She had to blink twice to be certain if her vision wasn’t betraying her. Sherlock was talking to Meena. Even more surprisingly, there seemed to be very little awkwardness between them. And what little there was, was overshadowed by their serious and captivated expressions. They were so engrossed in their conversation, they didn’t seem to notice Molly walking towards them.   
  
“Hi, Meena. Sherlock.” Molly greeted her friend who she hadn’t spoken to in weeks and her boyfriend who had tried to ignore her all day. _Fantastic._  
“Molly!” Meena exclaimed excitedly, without letting a second of silence fall. Suddenly Molly was wrapped up in a too tight embrace by her distant friend. “We haven’t spoken in, like, ages!”  
“I missed you too, Meena.” Molly replied with a small smile, while slowly peeling her friend off her.  
“Molly, my parents and I are going to London next weekend and I was wondering if you wanted to come along. Maybe you could go see some old friends or something. And we could go shopping together. If it’s alright with your parents, off course.” Meena let the words quickly flow from her mouth, wearing a smile that could have covered her whole face. Molly was very glad she and Meena were on speaking terms again, but a proposal like this came quite unexpected. Also, the question of what Sherlock and she had been discussing still nagged at her.  
  
“Uuh…That sounds fun Meena. I’ll think about it,” Molly replied, forcing a sweet smile. Meena deserved at least that much. While she had at first followed Sally in her anti-Molly campaign. Sally had eventually let her fall just as hard. Secretly, Molly hoped it was because Meena had finally stood up to her.   
“Okay, great! Just let me know. I have to go now, though. Phil is waiting for me. We’ll talk soon, Molly,” She announced as she looked over the school fence. Phil – who had almost fully recovered by now – was leaning against it.  Just before she turned to leave, she added; “Bye Sherlock!”  
  
This left Molly and Sherlock standing alone on the same spot they had shared their first serious kiss. Only now was she looking at him with a confused expression and he made a point out of ignoring it.   
“I didn’t know you and Meena knew each other,” Molly began, breaking the silence. She tried not to sound accusing, because she knew that would make Sherlock only throw up more walls.  
“We don’t. She imposed herself on me,” he replied, avoiding eye-contact.   
Molly decided not to tell him it didn’t seem like that. Instead she let out a sigh and asked; “Want to walk through the park today?”  
Walking through the park on their way home had become one of their little things. If the 10 minute walk to Molly’s house wasn’t enough, if they needed just a little bit more of each other on a day, they would go to the park. At first they would just spend half an hour in there, but soon minutes became hours. Their walks turned into conversations on uncomfortable benches, while they fed the ducks in the pond. Molly had even started to carry old bread in her backpack. When they were in the park, they were in their own universe. Laughing, talking, dreaming in a place where they had decided the sun would always shine. Unfortunately, it was cloudy today.

*********

“…so my parents keep asking about you. My mom even said you could come to dinner on Friday.” Molly told Sherlock while they sat on the wooden bench overlooking the pond. Every now and then she would throw pieces of bread in the direction of the ducks. “I haven’t given her an answer yet, so you…”   
  
Molly fell silent as she looked up at Sherlock. His eyes trained far off in the distance and  the little crinkle on his forehead, let her know he was lost in his own world again.  
“Sherlock. What’s wrong?” She let out an exasperated breath as she put a gentle hand on his knee.  No reply.   
When she was certain she wouldn’t receive some sort of belated response, she spoke; “Sherlock, I know that look. Something is seriously wrong. You’re not going to fool me, so just explain. Does it have something to do with what’s going on in town? With Rob?”   
  
Again this question was followed by a long period of silence, his leg completely motionless underneath her hand. Still, eventually Sherlock removed his eyes from his endless horizon and answered her; “It’s not just Rob. It’s all of it. The mystery, the chase, the _danger._ I’ve been careless. I knew that eventually you would be in danger as well, but I decided to be stubborn. Now I realize I shouldn’t have. We shouldn’t be together, for your own good.”  
“Wh-What?” Molly felt as if she had just been slapped in the face. She hadn’t expected some sort of sugar-coatedreply, but she couldn’t even make sense of where this answer was coming from. Yet, it stung. Hard.   
  
“You don’t understand Molly. It’s not just this one time. Maybe Rob will be caught and he will never be able to threaten you and we can all go on pretending everything is fine and dandy. But another threat will follow. Another mystery. Another danger, because that’s what I live for. I find trouble, before it finds me. _I’m_ the danger.”  
“Sherlock, I _do_ understand. Things can be dangerous. But we’ve been through them before. Remember the fire? Or the hospital with Phil? _I_ was the one who pointed out Rob. You might be ‘danger’, Sherlock. But you’re also my boyfriend, my best friend even. I like- _love_ – being with you and if that means we have to face some trouble together, that’s worth it.” The words rolled of her tongue clipped and clear. She knew that he wasn’t kidding around about the danger, Rob probably had threatened her. Sherlock didn’t lie about these things. Yet, recklessly, she wouldn’t let him talk her down. She hadn’t gone through all of it with him for that.  
  
“Molly,” he began to reply. His eyes were filled with a strange kind of compassion and his mouth was turned up in a half smile. “Come on, we’re never going to work, are we? That wasn’t ‘some’ trouble we went through, we’ve been dysfunctional from the very start. It’s not like everyone is saying those things about us without a reason.”   
“They are. Because they don’t see us sitting here all afternoon  talking about ducks and ghost stories and your mom’s pie. Maybe we’re not perfect, but please realize that nothing is. Sherlock, I really care about you and you can’t just pretend like that doesn’t mean anything,” Molly pleaded. She hated the way he looked at her. It made her want to scream and slap him, just to show that they weren’t some lost cause. To fight with him, to prove they were something worth fighting for.   
  
“That’s exactly the problem. You care _so_ much and that’s why you don’t deserve this. Let’s face it, I’m an asshole. You lost all your friends because of me, I sometimes disappear without saying a word, I never listen when you speak and when I do I just reply with harsh remarks, I don’t give you massive teddy bears…..” He replied, his voice lacking emotion and his posture nonchalant. Somehow it seemed as if he was reciting his usual grocery list.   
“You’re different, Sherlock. And that’s why I like you,” Molly pleaded with desperation in her voice. She could feel all the rage inside her turn into complete hopelessness.   
“You don’t,” He began, dropping his casual demeanor and painting that pitying half-smile on his face once more. “You like the idea of me. You like to think I’m concealing a great, caring heart. But honestly, I don’t have one.”  
Molly slowly feel defeat wash over her. Sherlock had made up his mind and Molly knew that whenever he did, there was no use in trying to change.   
Still, because she deep-down couldn’t believe in this sudden complete change of heart, she said; “Maybe we’re both just having a bad day. Let’s just go home and….”  
Before she had the chance to finish, Sherlock got up. “That seems like a great idea. Go home. Leave with Meena this weekend. See your old friends. Forget about us.”  
Molly could already feel him slipping away from her. His voice sounded tired, meant for lost causes, and she could see him getting lost in his own universe again.   
“Sherlock, I-“ Again she was interrupted.  
“Molly, promise me one thing?” He asked as he trained his eyes on hers for the last time.  
“Yes?”  
“Stop believing in me,” He slowly spelled out the words and leaned down a little. Then his lips were on her forehead, pressing down softly. Too soon he was gone again, leaving only this soft caress to remember him by.  
Then he turned around, turned up the collar of his leather jacket and left her on that bench that was too big for one. Minutes, maybe hours passed before Molly replied to the cold wind; “But, what if I can’t?”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it.   
> Please leave a comment to let me know your thoughts!


	17. A Meeting at Midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is prepared for his confrontation with Rob. When they finally meet in the haunted house, Sherlock's elaborate plan to catch this smalltown killer will truly be tested....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! A new chapter, a new adventure.  
> It's a bit shorter this time because I actually planned this to be only half of a chapter, but it turned out long enough to be a full chapter.  
> I hope you guys like it and please let me know what you think in the comments below!

Sherlock could hear the floorboards squeak underneath his sneakers. The sound that they produced was deeper, more ominous than the ones in his room. Slowly, he moved through the deteriorating rooms. He could feel the tiny voice recorder press against his skin. Underneath he found a corner that was so devoid of light, that anyone who dared to come near it would become invisible. So he did.  
He stood like one of the dusty lamps that adorned the corners of the abandoned living room – tall and motionless -  while he waited for Rob to arrive at the mansion. He could feel his heart beating wildly and for a moment he felt worried that the sound of it might give him away. Since the moment he had shut his front door behind him, he had known tonight was different  from than anything he had ever dealt with before . This was bigger, more complicated and needed a more careful approach. He had taken all of that into consideration when planning for the soon-to-happen encounter. Yet, he still felt something that he didn’t feel on any other night. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but it made him wonder what doubt felt like.  
  
After counting down exactly 5 minutes and 47 seconds in his head, Sherlock heard a sound that he didn’t produce himself for the first time that night. A low rumbling came from outside. Someone was parking a car. Soon, the sound died again but the silence was quickly replaced by a ‘bang’ of a slamming door. Footsteps on wet grass followed. Sherlock could feel himself become even more alert. The _thump thump thump_ of the feet grew louder and louder until they suddenly stopped. Sherlock held his breath.  
 _Screeeeeeeeee._ The hinges of the old door screeched as a tall shadow revealed himself. From his hiding place Sherlock could just catch a glimpse of the doorway. As soon as he spotted the dark silhouette he knew that it was time to act.

Smoothly Sherlock moved out of his dark corner in the exact moment that Rob stepped inside the mansion. By now he would have realized that he wouldn’t find a party here. In a flash Sherlock passed Rob and slammed the door shut. He could see his captive’s face fill with shock.  
“Good evening, Rob” Sherlock greeted with a devious smile on his face, blocking the doorway with his body.  
Before he could blink, Rob’s hands flew towards his neck. His head slammed against the door as Rob’s fingers started closing off his air supply.  
“I…I wouldn’t do that. One press on this button and the police will be here. And you’ll not only be arrested for assault, but also for breaking and entering and carrying illegal weaponry,” Sherlock managed to get out in a hoarse voice, while holding up his phone with the number of the local police on speed dial.  
The grip on Sherlock’s throat slowly loosened and he was released. Rob apparently was more careful than usual this night.  
  
As soon as Sherlock’s feet hit the ground he reached into his coat pockets and pulled out a small handgun. He pointed it at Rob’s forehead and his eyes go wide with fear for his life. The only harm the gun could possibly do was leave a tiny sore spot from the plastic bullets that they sold with it at the toy store, but Rob didn’t know that.  
“Now Rob, please explain to me what happened to David. And what exactly you had to do with it. I’m still kind of confused, you see.” Sherlock spoke slowly, a clear threat underneath his mocking tone.  
“You already know that. So, maybe if you could put that gun down….” Rob tried to keep a calm demeanor, but Sherlock could see tiny drops of sweat form on his forehead.  
In response Sherlock pushed the trigger down just a couple millimeters. “I don’t, Rob. You made it all a bit confusing for me. So please, tell me what happened to Mr. Lowell’s dogs,  Mr. O’Malley, my classmate Phil and that boy David. Because it would be such a waste if you were to take that secret to your grave,” Sherlock interrupted him. He didn’t have time to waste. It doesn’t take too long to identify a gun as fake. Or find out someone is hiding a voice recorder underneath his coat.  
  
“Alright, alright. I’ll tell you. Just stop pointing that gun at me,” Rob held up his hands in an I’m-an-innocent-man-believe-me-gesture. In response, Sherlock moved the gun from his forehead to his stomach. Aimed to wound, not to kill.  
“Well, you got me didn’t you, huh? Guess there’s no way out now…” Rob said, hiding his discomfort with a fake smile. For some reason his eyes nervously kept on wandering towards the back door. “You were right, I fed those dogs pesticides. But someone had to do it eventually. If I hadn’t done it, someone else would have.”  
“What about Mr. O’Malley?” Sherlock wouldn’t tolerate stalling.  
“Well, I was simply serving the law. Mr. O’Malley was a horrible man, who did terrible things. He was ruining all those kids.” Again, he tried to catch a glimpse of the back door. As if he was waiting for something to arrive. “And…well…I did what had to be done.”  
Sherlock was getting nervous. They didn’t have all night, but if Rob kept on stalling and speaking in these half-confession, they would need it.  
“What was that Rob? What did you do with Mr. O’Malley? Or rather, his pills?” Anger rang through his words as he questioned Rob, the grip on his gun tightening.  
“I didn’t actually do anything to Mr. O’Malley. I just adjusted his usual drug order a little. And in doing that I was protecting…..”  
“And what did that special variation do to him, Rob? And what about Phil’s accident? Or David being burned alive?” Sherlock’s voice was made of the coldest ice, as he took a step towards Rob. The gun was aimed at his chest now. Sherlock’s patience had run out. “Just say it. Just say you tried to kill them. Just admit you’re a murderer.”  
“Calm down, kid. Just stop…”  
This enraged Sherlock even further and he pressed the gun against Rob’s chest as he spoke; “You’re wasting my time. Just confess what you’ve done or I’ll pull this little trigger.”  
  
Then it all went very quickly. Almost too quickly even for Sherlock to keep up. From outside the mansion suddenly came two voices. Before Sherlock could even think of the consequences those sounds might have, Rob was yelling. “Tim! Ed!”.  Only seconds later two boys burst through the back door, running towards Rob. Suddenly Sherlock’s gun was thrown out of his hands. Before he could resist, he was pulled backwards by one of the boys. Away from Rob. He was released after a second, only to receive a blow to the head. His vision started to blur. While the room spun, he attempted to turn away from his attacker. This move only resulted in having another fist meet his face. He was certain now - he could already feel the strange warmth that usually came right before blacking out wash over him – that he was never going to win this fight. With his intellect he might have overpowered one Goliath,  but three giants were just too many to defeat – even for Sherlock Holmes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading, I hope you liked it.  
> What'd you think? Is Sherlock going to get out of this? Is Rob a creepy dude or is he a creepy dude?  
> Let me know what you think in the comments below! I'd love hearing from you!


	18. Caught in the Act

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's night didn't quite turn out like he expected and he is slowly losing his fight with Rob and his accomplices. He is certain there is no hope left for him, until.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAh! We're nearing the end so quickly! It's crazy!  
> Still, here is a new chapter. This was a lot of fun, but also a lot of work to write so I really hope you will enjoy it a lot!  
> Please please please let me know what you thought of this chapter and the story as a whole in the comments. I love hearing from you cool peeps!
> 
> Enjoy!

With the world fading in and out Sherlock still kept on trying to flee from the already lost fight. With all the power he had left, he pushed himself off the wall and out of the grip off his attacker. The boy stumbled backwards a little and Sherlock believed for a split-second that all might not be lost. Unfortunately, he didn’t spot Rob closing in on him from the side. Before he knew it, he was pinned against the wall again. The impact his head made when it met the crumbling surface, made his vision blur even further. Rob’s hand was on his throat. “You little shit!” He could hear Rob spit in his face, but his voice seemed as if his voice came from miles away. Sherlock let his body go limp, letting Rob’s hand hold him up like a rag doll. He could feel the darkness close in on him like a warm blanket and this time he let himself slip into it peacefully.

When another blow to his head was about to send him to complete darkness, Sherlock could suddenly hear a loud _bang!_. The noise was followed by several crashing sounds and loud voices.   
“Let go off the boy, right now!” One of the voices commanded angrily.  Suddenly, Rob’s fingers released the hold on Sherlock’s throat. His legs shook and he immediately sunk to the floor.  
From the dark corner he had crouched into, he could hear more noises that made his head throb. A loud smack. A groan. “We had nothing to do with!”. The click of closing handcuffs. Footsteps on the floorboards.  
Suddenly, a bright flash of light hit Sherlock’s face. He squinted and held out a hand protectively in front of his face. The sudden shock that it brought, made his brain start up again, though. He blinked and could now identify where the voices from earlier had come from. In the hallway, with a kicked-in door behind them, stood several policemen. One was holding the flashlight that created the bright beam on his face.  
  
“Can you stand up, kid?” The flashlight-carrier asked while he moved towards Sherlock’s weak figure. Behind him Sherlock could see Rob and his two unexpected helpers being led out of the mansion and towards one of several police cars.  
“Y-Yes,” Sherlock replied while he tried to pull himself up, his left hand pressing into the wall for support. Once he managed to straighten his wobbling legs, he started for the door. After making it halfway across the hall the world started to spin in front of his eyes again. As his body started to tilt to left just a bit too much, a strong hand grabbed his upper arm. Keeping him upright.  
“Easy there, young man.” Flashlight guy told him, while helping him reach the front door. Meanwhile Sherlock’s brain was finally starting to work to its fullest again and it had begun to talk some sense into the swaying body that carried it. _Get it together. Now. Snap out of it. How could you have let this happen? You idiot.  
  
_ As soon as they stepped through the front doorpost (there was not much left of the door), Sherlock took a deep draft of the cool night air and straightened himself. No matter how much he hated to admit it he had failed, but that didn’t mean he had to act like a failure.  
In the big field in front of the mansion several police cars were parked. Around them stood several police officers, filling in papers and debating how they were going to close off the crime scene. The car with Rob and his accomplices had apparently left already. Officer Flashlight opened up the door of one of the cars and instructed Sherlock to sit down on the front seat.  
“How are you feeling, kid? We can take you to a hospital right now or we have to take you to the station for questioning. You should probably still go see a doctor, though.” The officer, a large man with an impressive moustache, asked Sherlock while supporting himself with his hand on the car’s roof.  
“I’m feeling fine. Excellent.” Sherlock replied, having to use all his effort to muster up his signature smile. “Let’s go to the station, so we can settle this quickly.”  
“Okay, if you say so.” The officer replied, while he went around to get in at the driver’s side and Sherlock moved towards the backseat.  
  
Right before the officer got in, a policeman standing at the other side of the field called out; “Barnes! Wait up! You takin’ the kid home?”  
“To the station and then home, yeah. Why?” Officer Flashlight/Moustache – Barnes – replied.  
“Take the girl as well!” The policeman spoke loudly, while gesturing towards something near him. Probably the girl. Sherlock couldn’t see, because he was in the back seat. He immediately felt annoyed, because he couldn’t place what another child was doing at the crime scene.  
He didn’t have much time to wonder about it, though. Because light footsteps were already coming towards the car. Slowly a small figure appeared in Sherlock’s view. Pink sneakers. Yellow knitted sweater. Brown braided hair. Green twinkling eyes. _What?_

“Good evening, officer. Sherlock.” Molly greeted with a smile that usually only videos of baby kittens inspired in her, while she slid into the back seat next to a completely stunned Sherlock.  
As soon as she closed the door behind her, Barnes started the engine.  
 “Evening, Molly.” He replied, while driving off. “We’ll get you home real soon, we just have to take this guy to the station first. But that’ll come in handy, because we also have some forms you have to fill out. You know, to make sure you get an award for being a local hero. Haha.”  
While Barnes amused himself with his little joke, Sherlock’s brain was working overtime to figure out what exactly was going on here. For once in his life he was completely taken by surprise.  
“Oh, it really was nothing. I just did what I had to.” Molly replied, that extremely content smile still on her face. Sherlock felt a pang in his chest as he realized that he wasn’t the one that had put it on her face. Or probably never would. Immediately he told his heart to shut up again.  
“Ah, so humble. But you know what, kid?” Barnes addressed Sherlock, apparently having decided that _kid_ was is official name. “Without her we would have never caught those guys or got you out of there. You should thank her, times a million. Though, we also need to have a chat about what you were doing in there.”  
  
Silence fell as the three of them cruised through the dark streets. The police station was on the other side of town and Barnes – being the example of a good police officer – kept to all the speed limits, so even in a town this small their drive would take a while. An even longer while for Sherlock, because Molly was sitting right beside him. And not talking to him. And ignoring him. Probably reveling in the fact she had saved his sorry ass.  
Because he could feel his heart acting up again, he put his effort behind focusing on the questions that still burned. Eventually he had managed to get over his distracting feelings enough to ask here on of these questions.  
“So, how did you figure it out?” He spoke softly so Barnes couldn’t hear, leaning towards her. He caught a whiff of the familiar scent of her shampoo. Apple.  
In response she sat up straight and one side of her lips curled up as she turned to look him in the eye. “Let’s just say I had a little help from your mother.”  
  
 _What?_ There were so many questions rushing through his head, but he simply couldn’t let anything come out of his mouth.  
“Don’t act so surprised, Sherlock.” Molly continued in her upbeat tone (still whispering, fortunately) , strangely reminding him of  a hyperactive bunny. A really cute one, though. “I told you I could face some trouble. It was quite exciting, actually.”  
“Yes, but… _why_?” Sherlock asked her, his face still scrunched up in confusion. There were so many questions his brain had for her, yet only his heart could get his mouth to move.  
“Well, you were about to break the law – you _did_ break the law and you had a guy twice your size as your opponent. Thought you could use a little help. Also, it gave me quite an interesting night. Look at me, driving in a cop car and all,” she replied in a light tone, before letting her eyes become more serious. “I guess it just goes to show that I know best what I deserve, doesn’t it?”

Molly’s words made silence return to the car again. But this time it was different. Strained. Uncomfortable. It made Sherlock feel like he had to do anything just to break it.  
As they stopped in front of a traffic light, drizzle slowly coming down on the car’s roof,  Sherlock couldn’t hold it in any longer. He just _couldn’t.  
_ “Molly,” he spoke her name like a caress, like he used to do to whenever it was just them and the words of affection just seemed to flow out of his mouth. He leaned over, more than ever feeling like the lonely insecure boy he really was.  
“Thank you. For everything. I don’t think I can ever make it up to you. And I’m so sorry, Molly. I really am. I never should have put you through any of that,” the words just came out. And this time they were true and they were right. Or at least, they felt like that to Sherlock.  
Molly didn’t reply immediately, suddenly seeming uncomfortable. Looking down at her sneakers. Pink glow on her cheeks. Things that are true and right tend to do that to people. Eventually, she mumbled; “’Thank you’ and ‘sorry’ all in one breath, never expected that from Sherlock Holmes.”  
  
A force that seemed to come pull on him from the outside made him grab her arm, turning her to him. He didn’t know what he was doing, yet he seemed unable to stop it. When her eyes caught his, the words just came out; “Molly Hooper, you saved my life. And for that, I will always be grateful.”  
Something in those big greens of hers let him know that they both understood that this wasn’t just about tonight or Rob or this small-town mystery. This was about her being the only one seeing him that first day and everything that had followed. This was about her seeing through him and still not running away. This was about two people who had to learn what loving meant. Two people who deserved a happy ending.  
  
Molly’s cheeks turned even more pink, but a smile appeared on her lips. Not a cutting one like before, no, this was a smile Sherlock recognized. Sweet. Caring. With just a little hint of deviousness.  
 _Click._ Molly unbuckled her seat belt and slid next to him, so there was no more room in between them.  
“Come here,” she whispered as her hand moved from the back of his neck to his dark curls. With her delicate fingers she pulled his head closer and he understood what he was in for. He could feel his heart make a triumphant leap. In his elated state he lost all restraint. He put his hand on the small of her back and right before their lips met he pulled her even closer. Her lips were sweet and tasted like strawberries, but he wanted more. Slowly, he opened up his mouth and just before they could get into a full French kiss he bit down on her lower lip. In response, her hands gave sudden pull at his dark hair. Secretly, he applauded himself for being such a quick learner.

While his hands met her bare skin on the underside of her sweater, they were both pressed into the car door. A turn in the road. Suddenly, he could feel Molly go rigid under his hands. From the corner of his eye he could see Barnes in the front seat, looking at them through his front mirror with a horrified expression. Instead of pulling away, his lips moved towards Molly’s neck. His lips tried to persuade her to ignore the staring police officer. They succeeded and that was how Sherlock ended up kissing Molly passionately in the back of a cop car while he had been certain he would never speak to her again only hours ago.

When they had almost reached the police station and they would be forced to release each other from their intimate embrace, Sherlock pulled away in the middle of their kiss. His mouth moved towards Molly’s ear and whispered; “Promise me something? Don’t ever let me run away again.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So..... What did you think?  
> Please let me know in the comments below! :D


	19. Partners in Crime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weeks after the incident Molly has invited Sherlock over to study Chemistry. (Un)fortunately, Sherlock finds a very interesting distraction...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. The final chapter. The last page. It's strange how when I began this story it seemed like this moment would never come. Yet, it feels like no time has passed since I put that first word on the page. In that very short time a lot has happened, tough. I wrote over 30.000 words, had my first try at mystery, became more confident in my writing, but most of all got an amazing response. When I started out I never expected readers to react the way you did. Your sweet and often funny comments are what kept me going these past few months. I still can't explain how much seeing that you enjoy my writing means to me. So, I want to thank you guys for that. You all get a really big virtual hug from me. Writing this story was wonderful, but you made it irreplaceable.

“Sherlock, stop it!” Molly hissed as his lips travelled across the back of her neck.  
“Hmm..” He responded while his hand played with the underside of her shirt teasingly.   
“I actually have to study, you know?” She told him , while trying to resist the temptation to just give in to his kisses. They were sitting on her bedroom floor, surrounded by chemistry textbooks. Sherlock had come over this Saturday morning to ‘study’, but he hadn’t gotten any wiser on the subject of chemistry since he had stepped across Molly’s threshold. Not that he needed it.   
“No, you don’t. You already know all this stuff,” He said in a husky voice, when he finally took a break from inspecting her neck with his lips. “Besides, studying is boring. You’re being so boring right now.” _  
_Molly suddenly got the image of Sherlock as a little boy, constantly nagging everyone to play with him. He was such a baby sometimes. _  
_Before she had the chance to respond though, his hands suddenly circled around her waist. In one swift motion he pulled her into his laps, away from her textbooks.  
 _  
_“Sherlock. Let me go. Now.” Molly told him the most authoritative voice she could muster.  
“Uuhh….No.” He considered her request in a sarcastic tone, while he pulled his arms around her even more tightly. Molly suddenly felt his lips right behind her ear. On exactly that one spot. _Asshole._  
With her cheeks still flushed, Molly made her first attempt to escape. She needed an A and she was already behind in chemistry (thanks to Sherlock). She wasn’t going to let him win this one. She decided to stay friendly at first. She put her hands on top his and tried to peel his arms from her waist.   
She wasn’t certain how he did it, but in one extremely quick movement his hands were on top of hers and their fingers intertwined.  With her own arms underneath his, he pressed her hard into his chest and whispered in her ear with a deep voice; “Hhmm, alright. This is a game we can play.”

While she could still feel his hot breath on her neck, Molly decided that he didn’t deserve her friendly approach anymore. With all her strength she slipped her right arm out underneath his and pushed her elbow hard into his stomach.   
For a split-second Sherlock lost his grip on her and she quickly slid off his lap. Her attempt to escape didn’t last long, though, since Sherlock immediately grabbed her wrists. Before she realized it, he had her pinned to floor. He held her hands tightly above her head and straddled her hips between his knees. From this position she stared right into his eyes that had an extremely devious expression on them.   
Suddenly he lifted his left hand from her wrist, but not before grabbing both of them in his right one. His free hand moved to her mouth, slowly stroking her bottom lip with her thumb. Molly heard her breath catch and immediately turned bright red. When she saw the smug half-smile on his lips she felt the urge to try to fight him once more, but on the other hand she wanted to tell him to stop teasing and just kiss her already.  
Before she had the chance to act on any of these feelings, Sherlock brought his lips to her ear and told her in a voice that sent tingles down her spine; “I think I quite like this game.”

Molly let out a sigh, what resulted in his hand travelling away from her lips.   
“You know, there might have been upsides to you helping the police the last few weeks.” She tried to sound unaffected by his thumb slowly drawing circles on her neck, but failed miserably. Her words did have the desired effect, though.  
Upon hearing about his success with helping to get Rob charged for all the crimes he had committed in the last month he immediately decided playtime was over. He released Molly’s wrist and helped her sit up, his entire demeanor suddenly a lot more composed.

“Well, it was somewhat interesting for a little while. Unfortunately, Rob turned out to be an even easier catch than expected. And now that he is behind bars, there so little excitement left in this godforsaken town,” he replied, reducing the horrors they had gone through to a mere pleasant distraction.   
“Sherlock…” Molly began, having to put a lot of effort behind getting annoyed with him. The April warmth had made Sherlock change his usual button-down for a simple black t-shirt that somehow managed to make him all new kinds of attractive. Molly secretly believed it was magical.

“I do think I might be onto something that could be interesting,” He continued as a smile appeared on his lips, pretending to not have heard Molly.   
“And what’s that?” She asked, while contemplating  if she should tell him to leave. She wasn’t going to learn anything like this.  
“Well… I thought I might show you,” he answered and stood up. As he did, he grabbed Molly’s arm and brought her up as well.   
“What is it you want to show me?” Molly asked suspiciously.  
“It’s hard to explain. You just have to see. It’s quite intriguing, actually.” Sherlock replied, already making his way to her bedroom door. Now Molly really didn’t trust him anymore, he always could explain. Everything.  
Still, feeling kind of suspicious and deciding that she had already given up on studying chemistry when she invited Sherlock over, she let him lead her towards her door and down the stairs.  
  
When they reached the front door, Molly only had a second to grab her coat from the coatrack because Sherlock was already heading outside. In that short moment she did still get a flash of the last time she and Sherlock had stood in this hallway. The night of the dance. Looking back on it now, it brought a small smile to her lips. It had been the first night she was certain she wanted him, but also the first time she had seen what wanting him would truly mean.

When Molly stepped outside Sherlock was already standing beside his bike. Molly had just told her  parents she was going out for a bit in a loud voice, but she was already wondering if a longer farewell was in order for the trip they were going on.   
“Seriously Sherlock, where are we going?” She asked him, while he put on his helmet.  
“To the train station,” he replied in a tone that indicated he was ready to leave. Molly could already see he had snapped into action-mode, his eyes focused like a hawk’s and his movements precise and calculated.   
“And what are we going to do at the train station?”  
“Get a train.”  
Molly sighed. “And where is that train going?”  
“London,” he answered if it was nothing.  
“London?!” Molly exclaimed. “That’s at least two hours by train! Why do we need to go there, Sherlock?”   
“It’s Mycroft. He somehow got wind of me helping the police out here and now he wants me to do the same for him in London,” he explained flatly. Molly knew she should have realized it would be for something crime-related, but she had harbored the secret hope that maybe he had some sort of fun surprise for her.

“And why do I have to come along?” Molly asked, a part of her mind already entertaining the idea of going back inside and continuing her studies.  
“Molly,” Sherlock  began to reply, his eyebrows suddenly turned up in an earnest expression. “I need you. We never would have caught Rob as fast as we did without your help. You seem to have a strange knack for these things, which I have to say is surprising for a girl in cat sweaters.”  
As a reply Molly got a wide smile on her face. Although he could have worded it better, she knew that this was a massive compliment coming from him.   
Suddenly Sherlock fished something out of his pocket. Molly immediately saw what it was and wondered how Mrs. Holmes had gotten hold of it. The old grey deerstalker hat. With his pale hands Sherlock placed it on top of Molly’s head and pulled it down so it sat snug on top of her brown hair.   
  
“Why?” Molly asked smilingly.  
“It fits you better,” he replied.  
“Okay, shall we go then?”   
“If you say so.”  
“To the crime scene, Mr. Holmes.”  
“To the crime scene, Ms. Hooper.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. I hope you have enjoyed. 
> 
> Big hug <3  
> Sabine


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